


Fifty-two words

by aykayem



Series: Fifty-two words [15]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Introspection, Long-Term Relationship(s), Multi, OT3, Slow Burn, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 16:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 52
Words: 44,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1556798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykayem/pseuds/aykayem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Draco is forced to adapt to living again, in part by his family and in part by his friends, the latter of whom are willing to do whatever they can. Things evolve in very strange ways, but in the end, he realises that he can indeed manage it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Soigne

**Author's Note:**

> A compiled version of my Fifty-two words series for easy skimming.

  
_soigné_  
(adj.) possessing an aura of sophistication in dress, manner, or design; presented or prepared with an elegance attained through care for the finer details

One thing that Draco Malfoy had never been was ungainly. Even in his gawky teenage years, he had a certain level of grace and charm and wit that had made him endearing to just enough people that he had never been alone, not from the moment he woke up in the morning to the moment he closed his eyes at night. It was as though he had been put together with the utmost care, like every bit of him had been polished and tended to by someone who truly adored their work - like he was a doll meant not for play, but to be set upon a shelf and admired until people came by to ooh and aah. 

Of course he had his tatters around the edges; it was impossible not to by the time they all graduated from school. They had all been battered, tossed around and abused until their limits had been pushed, and they had all come out of it on the other side relatively unscathed. Draco was, perhaps, more scathed than most, but that didn't stop him from retaining something that made him inherently _him_. He was still all long limbs and grace, all lifted chins and upturned noses and half-lidded lashes as he regarded everyone around him. Now it was to keep himself in, instead of keeping everyone else out. A small distinction, but one that ought to be made all the same.

Theodore Nott (the younger) had never really tried to emulate that, not consciously. He had always wanted it, certainly, but perhaps not for himself: he wanted to be the possessor of such beauty, he wanted to be the one to meticulously care for that smooth, polished skin. He wanted to be the one to take that doll down from its shelf and carefully brush the dust from flawless porcelain. It was a realisation that set in when he saw the first signs of cracking during the war, when he had watched Draco try and stitch together elements of grace and elegance from ragged shreds of what once was, clambering for some notion of what he was before when they both knew that it wasn't going to happen.

But they _had_ come out unscathed. Draco _had_ been able to stitch together those elements of grace again, donning them and smoothing them back out like a tailored suit over his now too-skinny frame. They were war-torn and bloodied, but still Draco Malfoy held his chin up high, eyes averted high above the heads of all of those who used to be his classmates. It was the same act as before, but things had changed: no longer did he avoid the eyes of his peers because they weren't good enough; now it was he who wasn't good enough. It was he who clung to what once was, those ragged pieces of the past that had built him up and given him the confidence that had driven him as a child. Everyone else had moved beyond to something else, and still, he held the dregs of sophistication in his teacup, as though they foretold his future instead of his past.

He was a shattered thing now, a being half-there and half-gone. Where the other half was, no one seemed to know, but Theo hoped that the more he watched in silence, the better a chance he had at guessing. Perhaps the most obvious thing he had learned from those day-in, day-outs of quiet objective observation - rather than the subjective he was already so good at - was that Draco was still nowhere near ungainly. He stumbled and tripped, but it was never the type of thing that was perceptible; it passed over the heads of most, under the radar of the rest. To the untrained eye, Draco Malfoy hadn't gone through anything more than a hangnail, perhaps. Or maybe it was a stubbed toe. A snag along the hem of his sweater, or a scuff on his pristine leather shoes. To the rest of the world, he was just as put-together as he'd ever been. But to Theo Nott, the cracks shone through, and he was even more perfect than he'd been before.


	2. Resfeber

  
_resfeber_  
(n.) the restless race of the traveller's heart before the journey begins, when anxiety and anticipation are tangled together; a 'travel fever' that can manifest as an illness

It was not long after the war trials had finally been sorted out, and that was probably what contributed to half of the feeling budding within Draco. He'd been let off, his family had been let off, Theo had been let off. They were the only ones, and only because they could both prove that they were all unwilling participants, little better than those under the influence of the Imperius, and could throw the rest of the living Death Eaters under the bus. None of the others were getting out, not within Draco's lifetime, and they'd all made sure of that. He still remembered the looks on their faces as they glared at him and his father, led out to what would effectively be their demise. There was no bouncing back from the Kiss. But those looks stuck with him, and he felt as though they would stick with him for a very long time to come, even when his memory was shot, and he thought of nothing but those dead eyes staring at him, wishing he was there to join them like he ought to have been; they would manifest in nightmare, and in the dark of closed eyelids, he knew.

He let out a long shuddering sigh, a shiver running down his spine; he thought he was cold for a moment, but it was just the memories. It was a miracle they'd been let off, Draco still thought, his mind nowhere near as confident as it had been before the war. He no longer thought he would get through life unscathed, with everything handed to him; he now believed that he'd have to scrape and scramble for things like he never imagined he'd have to. He'd had everything, and now he had nothing.

Well, not quite nothing.

Draco glanced to the side, over to where Theo was pacing as they waited for the Portkey to activate. It had been Theo's idea to take a trip, to get away from everything in England that neither of them wanted to deal with. Draco's parents had agreed with ease, knowing full well that the alternative was their son sitting in his room, looking miserable. It had only taken a week to jump through the hoops of getting a Portkey to Rome, possibly because the poor girl in charge of it all had lived under a rock her whole life, and Theo simply managed to keep his mouth in check for a change. When he thought about the process his best friend must have gone through, he had to laugh. It was an awkward sort of sound, like the last year or so had made him forget how to laugh, how to smile, how to project confidence and self-assurance to the rest of the world. It was a good thing Theo had never been around to hear it.

That initial hysteria had passed, giving way to something Draco couldn't quite isolate; he knew it was a direct result of their impending trip. It was a sort of nausea that twisted and churned and kept him from eating, but was simultaneously not filled with the dread that he'd come to expect along with his loss of appetite. This was a sort of excitement, a strange sensation, as though he hadn't quite lost his ability to anticipate things happily. He hadn't done that in ages, since perhaps fifth year - it was a long time ago, so much so that he felt it was more than just two years and change.

"Would you stop pacing? You're making me ill," Draco finally murmured, his voice catching on the wind. Theo immediately stopped, looking over with a sort of surprise. As though he was floored his friend had actually spoken. It wouldn't be so hard to imagine that as the case, given that Draco hadn't exactly been chatty for the last little while. One hand pushed through Theo's typically messy hair, and then the other man sighed and dropped to the grass next to Draco.

"Maybe you feel ill because you haven't eaten anything in three days," Theo retorted, making a face.

"Maybe I feel ill because you haven't stopped pacing since we got here half an hour ago. And I seem to recall you pacing even before that. Nervous?"

"Hardly."

But Theo kept eyeing Draco, just a little bit. His expression was mostly guarded, as though there was something in it he didn't want seen, even by his best friend, but there was a clear thread of concern in it. Draco recognised that much, even if he didn't think about the details of it.

"What?" He finally asked, voice mild instead of potentially biting.

Theo's tongue flicked out, nervously wetting his lips, "Nothing."

Draco eyed him for another brief moment, wondering just how much to push the matter, then merely glanced forward again, focusing some of his attention on the rather plain ladies' shoe sitting in the grass just in front of them. They were still ahead of schedule, the Portkey not set to activate for another ten or fifteen minutes, perhaps. Draco wasn't keeping track; he was a bit too concerned with the way he felt feverish with nerves. His heart felt like it was pounding a tattoo in his chest, but when he thought about it, his pulse hadn't changed; his lungs felt as though they weren't expanding quite as much, but when he took a deep breath, they seemed fine. It seemed nothing more than psychological, and he wondered for a moment if he weren't going insane.

Perhaps it was worry that something might happen to his family while they were gone, perhaps it was merely the fact that he hadn't gone anywhere in years, and who knew how they'd be received. Draco's breathing hitched a little, and Theo just reached over, one hand splaying reassuringly between his shoulder blades.

Theo's eyebrows arched, asking the question that he probably wasn't going to verbalise. He didn't have to, and that was the real crux of the matter; Draco knew exactly what that expression was asking the moment he glanced over at it curiously. He just sighed, shaking his head a little.

"Have you ever felt like you're not sure if you dread something, or if you're excited?" He asked quietly, his voice soft beneath the gentle breeze that ruffled the trees surrounding their little glade. His friend went quiet for a moment or two, frowning a little. Draco could feel Theo's fingers lightly smoothing out his shirt, and he wondered in the back of his mind if it wasn't just an excuse to reach out and touch him. It probably was, but who was he to complain?

"Probably. Just never recognised it as such," Theo replied, still frowning at him. "That's what's making you sick?"

Draco just nodded, reaching up to push back a loose lock of hair that tried to escape over his forehead. Not that there was anyone around for miles to see; they were as isolated as isolated could be. 

"Seems to me like you need to take up meditation or something like that," Theo murmured under his breath, and Draco glanced over, giving him a dark look. "What? Isn't it better than saying you're just round the bend, and there's no hope for you? Because that's my next suggestion, but I didn't think you'd like it all that much."

"You're a git," Draco offered in return, rolling his eyes.

"Uh huh," Theo simply answered, pausing only a moment before leaning over to press a soft kiss to Draco's mouth. It took the blond by surprise, judging by the way he simply blinked for a moment before thinking to return it, one hand lifting out of his lap a little as though he meant to reach over and pull Theo closer. He didn't, though neither did he pull away.

Eventually, it was Theo who pulled away first, and even then, not by much. His cheeks had flushed slightly pink, and his hand had migrated from the middle of Draco's back to around his shoulders. "It's going to be fine, mate. We're going on holiday to a place where no one knows our names. No one even speaks our language. It's going to be brilliant."

Draco nodded slowly, remaining in silence as his eyes studied Theo. When he focused on himself, he found that some of the nauseated feeling had abated, and as he slowly let out a breath, nodding with a bit more conviction, he almost started to feel good about the trip. A murmured agreement had a smile tugging at Theo's mouth.

"Good. Now come on, the thing just lit up. Let's get out of this hellhole."


	3. Dérive

  
_dérive_  
(n.) lit. "drift"; a spontaneous journey where the traveller leaves their life behind for a time to let the spirit of the landscape and architecture attract and move them

They'd made it to Rome in record time, found themselves in a hotel within the hour, and had unpacked almost entirely before either of them ended up saying a word. Draco was rendered mostly speechless both by the method of travel (Portkey never sat that well with his sensitive stomach) and by the landscape itself; Theo was content letting Draco have his silence, knowing full well he'd speak when he wanted to. It was an understanding they'd come to long ago, when Theo had figured out that forcing Draco to do anything he didn't really want to would result in the blond getting progressively more grumpy.

So far, it seemed not like he was grumpy, but more that he was reeling. Whether from culture shock, or the fact that they'd actually gotten out of the country, or thanks to all manner of other things that Theo could really only imagine, he didn't know. He figured that too would come up when Draco felt that it ought to.

The blond stood at the open balcony of their hotel room - one room, one king sized bed; Theo justified it to himself in that it was cheaper, and when they didn't know how the reparations would look against their vaults, thrift was key, but the truth of the matter was simply that he wanted to curl up next to his best friend every night they were there - simply staring out over the cityscape. It was a beautiful location, the ornately carved balcony settling over a relatively bustling street that put them smack-dab in the middle of culture, with a view of the skyline. He was watching the sun slowly set, by the looks of it, his shoulders settled into a looser line than usual. Normally, Draco was so tense; he looked like he was wound tighter than he could stand, like he might suddenly snap at any moment. It didn't bode well for anyone, and yet, here he seemed all right. Theo swallowed a knot in his throat, padding across the room from where he'd just set the last of his things out for easy grabbing. They were staying long enough to warrant not living out of trunks, after all.

"Draco?"

"Did you just how beautiful it was going to be when you picked this room?" Draco quietly asked, still leaning against the railing, grey eyes locked out on the spray of colours in the sky.

Theo shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glancing out over the surrounding area, and shrugged one shoulder in a casual way. "Yeah. I might've scoped it out once or twice." That wasn't quite true: he'd actually spent quite a bit of time doing research, finding the best place to stay to best surround them with culture and colour and everything that was inherently ' _not England_ '. That was what they needed; that was what _Draco_ needed.

There was another bout of silence, though nothing about it felt tense or anxious. It was just silence, something comfortable that stretched out and wrapped them both up like an old, familiar blanket.

"Well, it's wonderful."

"Thanks." _It's for you_ , he didn't add. He kept that to himself, his heart in his throat as he thought about the way he'd so spontaneously kissed Draco in that clearing, the way neither of them had acknowledged it since then. Draco was smart, Theo knew, and there was no chance that he'd have missed all the signs since then. He'd have put it all together in his head at some point.

The city seemed to roll out forever around them, all ancient buildings and glowing orange lights that made it seem like they'd stepped back in time. Finally, Draco twisted, facing Theo a little bit more so he could gesture his friend over. "You have to see this. And not from back there, either - we both know that's a terrible vantage point."

Theo's face warmed a little as he crossed from the middle of the room over to Draco, pausing just a step back from him for half a moment. The stutter in his step was almost imperceptible, though the curve along the blond's mouth - faint, of course - suggested that he'd seen it. That curve was invitation enough, and instead of leaning against the railing beside Draco, Theo stepped up behind him, both hands passing around him to reach the railing that way instead. He remained nervous for a moment before one hand curved around Draco's waist; he could practically feel Draco's pleased smirk curving wider as the blond turned back towards the skyline to hide it.

"We needed this," he murmured, leaning back against Theo a little bit more. It only took that little shift to make the brunet's breath hitch, his hand tensing a little as if he wanted to grab Draco and drag him closer, until their bodies simply melded together from proximity alone.

"Yeah, we did," he answered, trying to keep his voice even as he shifted, ducking his head a little so he could nudge his nose against the soft skin of Draco's throat, inhaling that familiar scent that was inherently him. His lips brushed a quiet kiss against that same patch of skin moments later, and he could feel more than hear the way a soft chuckle rumbled within the blond.

Draco twisted again at that point, one arm finding itself draped around Theo's shoulders so he could drag his friend closer, into a sudden but lazily passionate kiss. It dragged on as the sun set, tucking itself down behind the expanse of skyline visible from the window, breaking only when they finally came up for air.

"You're not subtle at all, mate," Draco murmured against Theo's mouth, that smirk making its eager return as Theo felt his cheeks warm further with embarrassed colour that he'd been caught. Then again, it had obviously worked out in his favour, so maybe it wasn't so bad.


	4. Sillage

  
_sillage_  
(n.) the scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone's perfume

It was their last day of their trip, and Draco had gone out for a bit of air. Or maybe a bit of shopping. Something to eat. Theo honestly didn't really remember what the blond's murmured excuse had been; all he recalled was that Draco said he'd be back soon, and headed out. It was fine: he was making the most of the time by packing up the last of his things anyway.

Sometime within the first hour, he found himself distracted by the complete silence in the hotel room. Despite having a constant stream of thoughts running through his head - everything from what Draco was doing to how he ought to fold his clothing to accommodate the fact that he might've gone on a shopping spree to why people fold their clothing at all to the general history of clothing and then back to Draco yet again - Theo found himself oddly alone. Not quite lonely, but definitely alone.

He dropped himself onto the end of the bed with a small bounce, and shut his eyes, letting the air of the room circulate around him. It was a deep breath of unfamiliarity, appreciating it for everything that it was: it wasn't England, and he was really going to miss this adventure. It had ended much too quickly; they had to return to their normal lives, hopefully without any sort of unfortunate repercussions. He wasn't thinking about that, funnily enough. It didn't even register, not even for a half-second. That, in and of itself, was a rarity, but not one Theo was going to take for granted. Honestly, he was much more content ruminating properly on a handful of things: the way Rome looked and smelled and felt, the way it had opened its arms and welcomed two wizards in, granting them anonymity for a time.

Draco's shampoo was on the crisp afternoon air, tinging with the smells of something cooking that wafted in from outside. It was immediately recognisable, all woodsy and fresh, and cut through everything unfamiliar. Almost like it wanted to be caught, like it had a mind of its own and wanted to remind Theo of what he had just within his grasp. _For how much longer?_ , his mind asked, and he shooed the thought off with a frown, pushing himself up from the edge of the bed so he could press through the room like a knife cutting through butter, pacing a little to clear his mind.

It didn't work very well, unfortunately. Draco's scent seemed to cling to everything there, reminding Theo quite vividly of the way they'd made the most of their anonymity and the king-sized bed. His shampoo, his cologne, the impression of where he'd slept on half of his own pillow and half of Theo's. The brunet couldn't help but chuckle at that, almost tempted to fluff the impression out before remembering that there was housekeeping for a reason, and he needn't bother.

Instead, he paced the room slowly again, surveying the area with a critical eye and a very simple aim to remember everything that they'd done. It had been a brilliant trip, probably never to be captured again. Things just wouldn't fall quite right for it to be so easily duplicated: it was the combination of the circumstances, of the spontaneity of it all. Of everything. That was why it had gone so well, and why he could now picture Draco's easy, drunken smile from the night before when he closed his eyes again.

Theo let loose his concerns with a sigh, brushing them off as nothing as he told himself to just let well enough alone. Let it be. They still had a few hours, after all.

"What in the hell are you doing?" A familiar voice asked from the door, an audible sense of amusement to it that Theo was aware of without even turning around.

"Taking it all in," he explained, twisting to grin at Draco, who merely rolled his eyes and strode back into the room, dropping a bag of baked goods on the edge of the bed and a pair of those 'to go' cups from cafes on the bedside table.

"Sounds like you've gone out of your mind, honestly."

"Yeah, maybe. What's it to you if I have, Malfoy?"

"I can't be seen associating with a known madman," Draco drawled. "You know that. Now come get your tea before it gets cold."

"You didn't seriously bring snacks?" Theo chuckled, winding around the bed so he could peek into the takeaway bag, at all manner of baked goods.

"I got hungry. It's hardly good form to just get something for myself and leave you here to starve."

Theo shot Draco's peripheral vision a pleased grin that softened for a moment as he let it linger; he stepped a little bit closer, one hand just barely grazing against Draco's back as he moved to press a kiss against the blond's throat and immediately stepped back again. Almost as though nothing had happened at all. In keeping with it, he simply dug for something to go with his tea, some form of pseudo-muffin that looked particularly delicious.

When he glanced back up, Draco was merely staring at him, a faint flush creeping up his face and neck, his expression torn between curiosity and interest.

"What?"

"So what the hell were you actually doing when I came back?" The blond merely asked, changing the topic with a certain level of effortlessness that was so rarely achieved by the average individual. It was something to be admired, honestly.

"Did you know that you shed on all the pillows? And that your cologne reeks to the point that it's stunk up the place semi-permanently?" Theo responded, a grin playing at his lips to accompany the tease. Draco reached over, pulling a face as he gave his best friend a proper shove and a murmured _sod off_.


	5. Dozakh

  
_dozakh_  
(n.) a place of torment one believes they are in when separated from their lover; hell

This was it: this was hell. Perhaps it was just a little bit melodramatic, but Draco had always been just a little bit melodramatic anyway, and it was hardly time to start changing that, especially when there was no harm done by melodrama. Not like there was with unfortunate curses being used on hapless innocents, at least. Never mind that what he was currently likening to hell was mostly just the fact that his bed was empty; he could try as much as he liked to simply pretend that there was someone else there, but it just wasn't true.

The fact of the matter was that he'd gotten very used to having Theo around lately. He'd seen him too much over the last seven years to be able to deal with this sort of separation, though it had hardly been in the same sort of way. No, the last few weeks - since the Battle of Hogwarts, since the war trials started and ended in as quiet a manner as could be managed, Draco had been using Theo's presence as his rock. His friend was a stark reminder that he could not break down, no matter how much he wanted to; he had to remain strong and sturdy, if for no other reason than his own embarrassment.

Theo had never judged him for crying before, and had even provided a shoulder on which to do so, but he hardly wanted to make a habit of it. Instead, he kept things bottled up, locked behind a mask that suggested he was untouchable. It was as much for his own benefit as it was for Theo's; he needed his friend to think that he was capable, that he wasn't quite as shattered as he felt. Draco wasn't an idiot, after all - he'd figured out that Theo fancied him. Admittedly, he had gone an exceedingly long time without realising it, but he knew _now_ , and that was sort of the point of the thing, he thought.

Of course, then there was all the expectations to consider. Suffice to say, Draco honestly didn't spend a whole lot of time on the topic.

He loosed a soft sigh, flopping onto his back so he could stare up at the familiar ceiling of his bedroom. Somehow, the place had become his one beacon of hope back during the war. It was a space where he could simply exist, where he could ignore everything else that went on outside the door. It had been a space time and again where he and Theo could simply sprawl out and speak in hushed tones about whatever came to mind, and for Draco's best friend, that was quite a lot. He couldn't even keep track of all the things they'd discussed, whether it was serious discussion or something frivolous, meant to make him laugh when all he wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry.

He realised belatedly that most of what Theo had done during the war had been to try and ease up some of that. Perhaps not all - there was definitely some that was meant for his own benefit - but there was definitely quite a bit that seemed to have been for Draco's. It had worked, obviously. Theo had become synonymous with comfort and reassurance in his mind, and now that he wasn't around any more, now that things had gone back to 'normal' as most people were calling it, he was finding that the distance was bothering him more than he thought it would.

It really was hell. There was a palpable sense of loss that Draco kept telling himself was stupid; he could easily owl his friend, set up some sort of meeting place. But that wasn't the point. Hanging out wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to be safe, in that comfortable space that once existed just for him and now seemed to be made even more safe and comfortable by a certain presence, and lacked something when that presence was gone.

Draco knew full well that it was all in his head, but that didn't change how incredibly frustrating the whole thing was. He couldn't stand it. Perhaps it was more that he couldn't stand the knowledge that he might have fancied Theo back in some way, though. With another huffed sigh, the blond rolled over, pressing his face into pillows that smelled faintly of his friend's shampoo, and gave a quiet, muffled groan.

He _definitely_ needed to stop thinking about it.


	6. Hoppípolla

  
_hoppípolla_  
(phr.) (v.) jumping into puddles

When they were kids, Draco and Theo had really only gotten along on the odd day: once in a blue moon, really. Between Draco believing himself to be perfect and flawless and Theo wanting to disagree just on principle, it was easy to figure out where and why they'd butted heads in the past. But every now and then, they'd had their moments where everything else could be put aside, and they could just enjoy themselves. Sometimes it was because their mothers (back when Theo's was alive) told them to get along, sometimes it was just an incredibly lucky day. Sometimes it was because it was raining and Draco was feeling particularly energetic, and Theo was just too tired of going against the grain to fight back for ten minutes.

Draco had dragged Theo out of doors, out to the gardens to pester the already unhappy peacocks, and Theo had made no word of protest except when he tripped over his own feet and nearly landed in the muck just outside the door. There was nothing really special about that day, nor about the day that fell on everything, leaving them with a warm, wet scent that filled the air. It was one of Draco's favourite smells, right from the get-go - he still loved it, even as an adult, and perhaps because of that very day - and when they stepped outside, he had inhaled loudly and let out a pleased sigh.

"I love rain," he declared, and Theo had just rolled his eyes in retort.

"It's ruining my hair."

"Your hair sticks out at funny angles anyway."

"Excus-"

Draco had just laughed, darting away to race through a series of puddles that were forming in slumped areas of the cobbled pathway leading into the main gardens, leaving Theo in the dust to soak through and grumble. It had only taken a moment or two before he hurried after, shouting for Draco to wait up for him. His protests were met once again with chiming laughter, just slightly mocking as only Draco could be at that age.

They'd spent the afternoon hopping through puddles, their hair and clothes plastered to their bodies, until they wandered back inside and, much to their mothers' mild annoyance, ended up getting a rather nice rug sopping wet. Even then, Draco had been forgiven quickly enough just because it looked like Theo had actually enjoyed himself.

Now that they were adults, it was a little bit harder to get that kind of time to themselves. Mostly because things were all awry, all up in the air, and free time wasn't exactly the sort of thing they got. Draco always managed to make _some_ for himself, but it was never quite enough, not as far as he was concerned. But then, he'd always been one of those who managed to get his homework done in record time at Hogwarts, and then spent the rest of the evening being rowdy and distracting everyone else in the common room.

It was raining again. Another day of English rain, making for a wet summer indeed. The early morning fog creeping around the hedge maze on the far side of the gardens was a sight to behold, and he had made a point of owling Theo the moment he saw it. It was an excuse to do so, after all; it was an excuse to drag him back there and perhaps bring his own memories of Malfoy Manor back to something he liked instead of seeing dead bodies all over the floor when he shut his eyes.

It was a truly horrifying thing to witness, his childhood home being desecrated that way. Draco barely even thought of it as home now; it was just a house, one that held his possessions and bore a striking resemblance to the one he used to know.

Afternoon approached, and Theo made his timely arrival through via Floo, stretching out and grumbling about the various inconveniences of the network. Draco waited for him in the parlour, breaking into something of a nervous smile when his friend wandered in, frowning and eyeing the blond like he'd gone mad.

"All right. I'm here. What's so urgent?" Theo asked, glancing outside briefly.

"It's raining," Draco pointed out, pushing himself up from the overstuffed chair he'd made himself comfortable in.

"Yes. It is. You're not going to wander in it again without an umbrella, are you? I thought I'd killed that habit the last time you caught a chill."

Draco's mouth curved into a pleased smile, and Theo almost took an involuntary step backwards. "I know that face. Don't make that face at me, Malfoy. Every time you do, I find myself roped into another horrid scheme of yours."

"I'm not going wandering in it-"

"Oh, thank Merlin, you've found some common sense."

"-We are going wandering in it."

"Bugger."

And that was how Draco managed to convince Theo (without much effort at all) to join him outside in the rain. Theo would grumble and grouse, and in the end, he'd always sort of known that he was going to end up doing it anyway. After all, it was Draco doing the asking, and there was nothing quite like the way the blond lit up when he finally agreed. It was almost irresistible, and made even the worst of decisions seem all right.

Their hair was plastered to their faces within minutes, and their shirts were close behind, and even so, Draco was bright and cheerful as they walked. Not ran, like they had when they were young, but walked.

"I love rain."

Theo glanced over to him, curious and feeling very much like he was experiencing deja-vu. A pleasant sort of deja-vu, at least; it was definitely the kind of moment he didn't mind reliving quite so much. A smile threatened to curve his mouth up until the moment that Draco glanced over, his cheeks flushing a little.

"What?"

"Nothing," Theo answered, putting on an innocent smile.

Draco just narrowed his eyes a little bit before letting his gaze skim forward again, landing on a puddle. He paused, letting Theo take a few steps ahead of him. It almost seemed born of concern or nervousness, like his shoes would get wet by walking through it. A silly thought, considering they were already soaked to the bone practically. But finally, he moved, answering the unspoken question of exactly what he was doing just staring at the damned thing. Instead of circling around it, though, the blond raced straight at it, giving a pleased whoop before launching himself into it.

Theo hadn't realised the thing was that deep. But it really was. It was very deep, and the tidal wave that hit him straight in the face had been much bigger than anticipated. He sputtered a few times, spitting water back onto the ground and blinking puddle water out of his eyes and off his lashes before looking at Draco incredulously. It was met with a wicked grin, one that deserved to be punished. Really and truly. It did.

"You'd better hope you can still run quickly, Malfoy."

Draco's grin expanded wider, if that was at all possible, and he turned, racing off in the opposite direction with Theo at a close second. And just like that, they wasted an entire afternoon racing through the gardens, laughing and jumping in puddles (and sometimes even shoving each other into them) until they padded back inside, even more sopping wet than they'd been as children, much to Narcissa's dismay.


	7. Tintinnabulation

  
_tintinnabulation_  
(n.) the sound "that so musically wells from the bells, bells, bells, bells"; the sound that lingers after a bell has been struck

A single note sprang up from the piano, ringing out proud and true through the entirety of Malfoy Manor. How the hallways managed to allow such a note to linger even to the far back rooms was beyond Draco and always had been; there was just something about the design of the place that lent itself to things carrying well.

He sat at the piano in the ballroom, one hand folded lazily in his lap, his back slightly curved. His mother would have his head for such poor posture, but it wasn't really as though he was playing anyway. It was nothing but idle fancy that brought him there right then; the library didn't have anything that caught his attention, and it was still raining outside. He was bored, and though he'd once again owled Theo in hopes that his boredom would be dashed with a little company, it seemed like he'd have to deal with a little more time alone.

His hand shifted higher up the ivory keys, one finger slowly pressing one down to bring about another lingering note. Higher than the last, but hardly the beginnings of a song. With a quiet sigh, he set both hands to the keys, cool beneath his touch, and straightened a little as he began to play something properly. Something light and airy, with a touch of melancholy; something that he simply had memorised, and didn't need to work to play.

The door creaked open sometime during the climax of the song, the sound never moving beyond that, and Draco ignored it; he thought it might have simply been a house-elf curious to see the young master of the house play. His thoughts were dashed when he finally brought it around, ending the song with a delicate flourish that drifted off into silence once again, and the end was met with applause. Mild applause, but still applause. He turned curiously, twisting on the seat, and made a face at Theo.

"Honestly, if you keep getting me to come over like this, people are going to talk. Especially if it's just so I can stroke your ego when you take to playing things like that," his friend greeted him, abandoning his position near the doorway so he could cross through the expansive room.

"I don't get you to come over to stroke my ego," Draco protested with a roll of his eyes, and Theo smirked.

"What, so you want me stroking something else? People really _will_ talk then."

"Shut up," the blond replied with another roll of his eyes and a heavy sigh. "I'm _bored_."

"And I'm supposed to amuse you?" Theo asked, looking sceptical at the suggestion.

Draco merely looked over, his expression deadly serious. "Well, _yes_. That's what friends are for."

"I'm fairly sure it's not."

The conversation faltered for a moment, Draco simply refusing to acknowledge that Theo was probably right. Instead, he turned back to the piano, pressing another key and letting it echo throughout. Theo finished crossing over, one hand finding Draco's shoulder and nudging him over so they could both sit on the bench.

"How'm I supposed to amuse you, do you suppose? Or did you not think that far ahead?"

"You could play along with me. Make a proper duet."

"Do you still keep that cello just lying around?"

Draco smirked a little, shrugging one shoulder casually. Theo rolled his eyes, but pushed himself reluctantly up from the bench to retrieve his instrument of choice from where it was set up (and curiously enough, actually in tune) and bring it back over. There was probably a chair in another corner, but that involved a lot more walking, and not enough close proximity. Draco didn't even seem to mind, merely making room so Theo could replace himself on the bench facing the opposite direction. It took mere moments for the brunet to set himself up, the cello comfortably resting between his knees.

Theo took the initiative, offering up a note, and the low beginnings of a song they both knew, and Draco joined in after a moment or two, his fingers dancing over the keys of the piano. It was something they'd done a few times before, and would likely do again; there was something to be said for the way they could just melt into the music and let themselves go. Nothing else mattered as long as the house was filled with music.

It ended far too quickly, the song drifting off into comfortable silence again, and then Theo leaned back, his arm bumping against Draco's back. The blond glanced over his shoulder to his friend, eyebrows arching curiously.

"We can't just play duets all afternoon, you know."

"Sure, we can," Draco drawled with a stifled chuckle. It was Theo's turn to roll his eyes then.

"My arm's going to get tired, and you'll end up whinging about how you injured your fingers. I know you will."

"Will not." Theo's eyebrows lifted sceptically, and Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine. We'll find something else to do. Any proposals?"

The bow was set atop the piano's smooth top, and Theo carefully rearranged the cello into a more desirable place where it might not get knocked over as he whirled back around to face the piano. Draco merely regarded him silently, unsure of what was planned. A wicked smirk was shot in his direction, and then Theo leaned in, one hand just behind Draco on the bench to keep him braced as he pressed his mouth to his best friend's in a firm kiss.

When it broke, Draco only half-opened his eyes, murmuring quietly: "You know my mother's home."

"No, she's not. She left when I got here," Theo drawled, his smirk pulling wider as he leaned in for another kiss. That time, Draco didn't bother pulling away or protesting, not when Theo's lips on his were so familiar, and promised an excellent way to kill a little bit of time. His hand snaked around the brunet's shoulders, pulling him in closer.


	8. Ultramarine

  
_ultramarine_  
(adj.) beyond the sea; (n.) a brilliant deep blue colour

One thing Theo had always been grateful for was his childhood home's proximity to the sea. It was something that he had that Draco never had, and meant that there was at least one excuse to get the blond over once they were older and hanging out. He'd never much liked the house other than that - the rooms either reminded him too much of his late mother, or of his neglectful father - but it did have the sea, and with the sea came a certain set of notions. It was an escape, or a portal to some world far beyond. He could just sit there at the edge, staring out into the distance for hours, letting his mind wander wherever it wanted to.

Sometimes he wondered what it might be like to head out there, outside the British Isles for a change. Properly, rather than just a holiday or two somewhere else. Rome had been a much needed getaway, and it made him wonder if he couldn't just pack a bag and disappear for a few years.

It would be impossible to leave Draco behind though, Theo reminded himself with a sigh. It wasn't even an option without the blond; without him, it would be nothing but escape. Not that it wouldn't be escape with him, but it was different.

The entire train of thought was getting somehow derailed. Though he clung to the tail end of it, he ended up losing the point, and with another heavy sigh, Theo shoved himself unceremoniously up from the outcrop of rocks he sat on, heading back to the house.

"Oi. Where are you going?" A familiar voice greeted him unhappily, and he glanced over, a smile immediately tugging at his mouth. No one but the very centre of his thoughts, of course; no one else would dare greet him like that, not unless they wanted to get hexed.

"Back inside."

"If you were going _in_ , why did you make _me_ come _out_?" Draco demanded, pulling a cardigan tighter around his body. Only then did Theo realise that it was starting to drizzle; he hadn't noticed.

"Because I'm like that, and you can't stay inside all the time, Draco. You're going to get even paler than you are now, and I'm already worried you're actually a ghost," Theo replied plainly, rolling his eyes as he reached out, turning the blond where he stood so he could steer him back towards the empty manor. "Come on. We're going out."

"Out _where_?"

"Doesn't matter. Just…out."

And that was how they found themselves in the middle of a packed pub, listening halfheartedly to a gaggle of young witches gossip about something or another, each of them nursing a pint. They'd been there a little while already, making idle conversation. Draco seemed slightly distracted - or perhaps just cold - but it wasn't as though Theo wasn't right there with him, his own head up in the clouds.

Until finally: "We should get away."

"We did that already," Draco replied, one brow arching sceptically.

"No, I mean- Properly. Move away."

"I can't. My mother-"

Theo sighed a little. "Yeah. Right. Your mum." His fingers tapped impatiently at his glass. "I always hated that house, you know."

"Knew that," Draco murmured around the rim of his own, any other thoughts he had on the matter drowned in a long sip.

"And now it's just _mine_ , and what's the point of having a house that big all to myself? Especially since I hate it."

Draco's brow arched again, but he said nothing. Theo took the rare opportunity, the words now beginning to tumble from his lips a little faster, a little less thought-out, "So what if I sold it? Sold it and moved somewhere I actually _liked_ , and maybe just- What if I lived a little more, not as a Nott or a former Death Eater, but as- Just as a bloke."

"Muggle London?" The blond interjected, finally setting his pint down. 

Theo winced, making a face. "Maybe not. But what about a place of my own in wizarding London? Nice little flat where I didn't have to answer to anyone or anything. Not like I do now anyway. But-"

"Didn't you want to work at the Ministry anyway?"

"Well, yes. Don't know how that's going to work out after the trials, but I was thinking I could eke my way in on the bottom level and see if I couldn't bounce between departments a little," Theo smirked a little. Draco merely rolled his eyes, unable to keep from returning the smirk.

"How _does_ one get into the Department of Mysteries anyway?"

"It's a mystery, Draco. That's half the fun of it."

Another roll of grey eyes skyward. "Well, all right, fine. You'll never see _me_ working there."

"No, you'd be better off in sport, bickering with everyone who was rooting for the wrong team."

"It's not my fault there are still people out there who think the Chudley Cannons have a shot at the Cup," Draco retorted with a gasp that sounded downright offended. The conversation degraded from there, the pair of them lightening up until they were a couple pints in, and Draco had very nearly hit his giggly stage. They were stumbling out when Theo's mind came back around to the original train of thought, and out of the blue, he spoke, interrupting whatever ramble his friend had gone on.

"What if we moved to Rome?"

"I don' wanna move to Rome. I like it here."

"Draco, you like it anywhere that has your mum."

"I like my mum."

Theo rolled his eyes, dragging Draco along as they tripped their way down the sidewalk. There was a spot they could pop into to Floo back to the manor just around the next corner, he thought; it was probably better that they got home sooner rather than later, before they both ended up in a ditch somewhere in the middle of nowhere, both missing an eyebrow.

"Your mum's lovely, but that's not the point. The point is that I want to live with you somewhere." The words had just slipped out before Theo could catch them, and he half-froze for a moment before snapping his eyes to Draco. The blond, thankfully, didn't even seem to notice.

There was a strange sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he wondered if maybe he shouldn't be quite so thankful that Draco had ignored that.

"Well?" He asked after a moment, and the blond looked over to him with what could only be described as a wobbly stare.

"Well what?"

"Y-"

"You want to live with me somewhere," Draco repeated, fluttering one hand through the air in a too big gesture. "Somewhere overseas. Don't know what the obsession with overseas is today, but who'm I to argue? France is nice. Rome was pretty. Then there's somewhere else - the colonies, I don't know. Africa. No, too hot. Aus?"

"Are you kidding me?" He asked, slightly incredulous. They'd stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and Draco just gave a shrug.

"You wanted to move, didn't you? I think that…" He trailed off a little, taking a couple steps towards the nearest wall of a building so he had something to lean against. "I think that you'd be better off living here. S'easier, isn't it? You're not in the house you hate, but you don't have to pack up everything you own and deal with that train wreck. You can owl people up, have a pint when you like. Have people over. Do whatever you want, but without changing every little detail about your life." He sniffed, staring at Theo as he thought, frowning deeply as though something was evading him. It faded after a moment or two, and Draco just shrugged again. "It'd be weird, moving somewhere new."

"It'd be fun."

"No, it'd be weird. I've lived here as long as I can remember, excluding Hogwarts," Draco replied, wrinkling his nose. "I don't want to go anywhere. And you can't go anywhere, because it'd be weird living here without you around, making snarky remarks under your breath."

That got a laugh out of Theo, a sharp sort of sound.

"What?"

"I do not make snarky remarks under my breath."

"Fine, you make them out loud. What difference does it make?"

"It-" He paused, laughing a little more. Properly that time. "You're serious."

"Of course I'm serious," Draco pouted. "I'm always serious."

"You're _drunk_."

"And?"

"And that means you're not making any fucking sense, Draco."

Once again, Draco's only response was a roll of his eyes, this time so hard it seemed as though his entire body got involved in the motion. Only then did he reach out to snag Theo by the collar of his shirt, dragging him in a little. "Who cares? We're out to have fun, aren't we? Can't have fun if you're halfway around the world chasing down some sensation of wanderlust. I'm not even having fun right now."

"Looks like you're having plenty of fun."

"M'not," he replied, returning to his previous pout.

"What do you want me to do about that?" Theo asked, half-laughing again.

"I want you…" A pause, and one that made the brunet's heart do a flip in his chest. "To just…shut up about the moving for a night. Twelve hours? I'd settle for that, though twenty-four might be better."

Theo opened his mouth to retort before an idle thought struck him like so many before it, and he changed tacts halfway through. "Make me."

Draco rolled his eyes again, snagging Theo's collar again to drag him in the rest of the way, shutting him up in the best way he knew how.


	9. Dirl

  
_dirl_  
(v.) to thrill, to vibrate, to penetrate; to tremble or quiver

They'd barely gotten back to Theo's family home before they were on each other like rabid wolves, hands clawing desperately at one another in hopes that they could get the layers of fabric to just fall off the other. Theo was a bit more eager, but there was no denying that Draco's own intentions were far from innocent. The brunet leaned in, nipping a rough kiss against Draco's throat as his fingers danced down the line of buttons keeping his shirt on. Draco's waistcoat had already been made short work of, and now hung off his shoulders loosely, just waiting to be shrugged off.

One hand slipped inside Draco's shirt, helping to push it aside and to also let Theo get a proper hand on warm, flushed skin. Draco's hand fisted into messy brown hair, pulling him back up so their mouths could crush against one another once again in a firm, needy kiss. This was just the sort of thing their entire relationship was based off of: desperate encounters that ended with both of them getting exactly what they wanted. Theo just wanted to be near his best friend, and Draco- Well, he didn't presume to know what Draco wanted out of the entire thing.

Their clothes littered the floor, shrugged away and stepped out of hastily before they tumbled onto the bed in a tangled heap of limbs, Draco's mouth dropping to press a line of kisses down Theo's throat and collarbone, ravishing the ridges and planes of his friend's body while Theo's hands crept up Draco's back and raked gently back down. The resulting groan was well worth it, vibrating in the back of the blond's throat, and a quiet laugh escaped Theo's lips. One of Draco's hands made it down between his legs, taking him fully in hand for a few firm strokes, his teeth grazing against skin.

"G- Draco," he groaned, digging in his nails as one leg wrapped around Draco's and slid upwards, pulling their bodies flush together for a lazy but pointed grind.

"S'your room."

"You know where everything is, you prick," Theo forced out, the words not having nearly as much bite as usual for being so breathless and pitchy. It was virtually impossible to hold a proper conversation when someone was stroking him off, but he refused to let Draco get the better of him even at a time like this. "And you've got me pinned."

"Yes, I know," Draco replied, pulling back just enough to shoot his friend a wicked grin, Summoning lube and a condom to his free hand. It didn't take long to get Theo writhing beneath him, legs spread wide as Draco scissored him open; his hips jerked upwards, and a groan caught in the back of his throat. There in the Nott family manor, they didn't have to worry about keeping quiet because of parents down the hall. His mother was dead, and his father was in Azkaban, and that meant the entire place was his to do with what he wished. What he wished was to have it be a little less big, a little less empty, and a little less harsh. It wasn't going to happen, though; he'd settle for shagging Draco on every surface he could.

Starting with this one. It was hardly the first time, but it'd do.

Draco's mouth was on his as their bodies slid together, all sweat-slicked and heated. They were tangled up even more than before, both of them trembling faintly as they gasped, and moaned, and clutched at each other and the sheets. Climax rolled over them both in turn, leaving them shuddering in its wake, and still tangled together. Draco had no intention of moving immediately, his entire body loose and boneless, and Theo had no intention of letting him go. The blond lay atop his friend panting softly, one hand sliding into soft brown hair lazily, pushing it into an even more ridiculous state of being than before, and Theo's fingers tangled into Draco's in return as he dragged him back in for another deep kiss, this one languid and sated. Sobriety had come to them some time between now and the time they got home, leaving nothing but a pleasant haze of satisfaction.

"See what you'd miss out on if you went overseas?" Draco's voice in his ear was soft and mumbled as the blond closed his eyes, fully intending to fall asleep right there if he was allowed. Theo merely pushed him over onto his side with a lazy movement, cleaning them up with a murmured charm as soon as he found his wand, so they could probably settle in.

"Yeah, I see it," he replied in a low murmur, rolling over so he could tangle back up in Draco's limbs, cuddling close.


	10. Micawber

  
_micawber_  
(n.) an eternal optimist

Draco had never really been all that optimistic. Even when he was a child, given everything on a silver platter, he could never really view things from a truly optimistic view. It was always much more entitled than anything else. More likely than not, that was just how it would always be.

He was working on it a little bit, though. It was a slow-going process, but the war had changed some of how he viewed things. It had changed everything, though it was understandable; it was virtually impossible for things to just go back to the same way they were before. Though he kept his head down now, he still read; he still paid attention to the world outside. He knew full well that Potter was an Auror now, that Granger was still working towards her ridiculous goal of getting house-elves autonomy, and that Weasley was helping his brother with that joke shop. All of them had managed to remain oddly optimistic, despite facing perhaps even more than Draco had. He tried not to think about the lot of them, actually. In a way, it just reminded him of everything he'd rather forget.

Sometimes he wondered, in a way, if Theo didn't have the right idea. Maybe the best way to go about things really was to just move away. But then he remembered that no, that didn't work. That wasn't how things were meant to work for them; no one could just simply pick up and disappear from where they'd lived most of their life, not without feeling some sort of regret. Surely everyone felt the same sense of loss that he did. _Surely._

But then again, maybe not. Maybe everyone else managed to go through life with the knowledge that things really would get better, that maybe this one bad day wasn't necessarily speaking for how the rest of the week, the month, the year, the decade would go. He wasn't so sure. And yet, even Theo managed to do it, and he'd lost more than Draco had. Draco's parents were both still alive and around; they loved him, and they provided all they could for him. Theo lived in a massive mansion filled with nothing but bad memories and emptiness.

He inhaled, and he exhaled. With the inhale, Draco thought that maybe he could do with an attitude adjustment. With the exhale, he let out the negative, focusing not on the war and what had been lost, but on the good, on the fact that he was still alive and given a second chance. He could redeem himself. After all, when you hit rock bottom, there was nowhere to go but up.


	11. Katzenjammer

  
_Katzenjammer_  
(n.) lit. "cat's wail" and hence "a discordant sound"; a bad hangover or a general state of depression or bewilderment

It had been two weeks since that last bout of wanderlust had struck, and very little had happened. Theo's birthday was creeping up slowly, the height of summer was upon them now, and Draco was bored. Perhaps more bored than usual, given that they normally had Hogwarts to look forward to. This year, however, they had nothing of the sort. They had the rest of their lives to plan and sort out. Perhaps work, perhaps travel, perhaps more hiding, given the tendency the reporters had to try and nose their way into everyone's business. Draco's mother had thrown a dinner party the night before, and it hadn't a good turnout at all; most of their friends were too wary and afraid to show up at Malfoy Manor, lest the _Daily Prophet_ suddenly paint them all as trying to restart a band of Death Eaters.

But it had been fun, at least. Theo had come by, because people already knew he was one - a former DE, as it were - and he and Draco had dined and dashed as much as one could when they had no plans to go out. instead, they had nicked a full bottle of wine that had been left to aerate, and absconded up to Draco's room. No one questioned it, nor did they really seem to notice. Lucius and Narcissa had been too busy entertaining the few guests they had to care.

And so, a night of raucous, terrible behaviour began, just as most nights like that began: they charmed the room soundproof, took to the bottle, and played a handful of two-person drinking games that ended with nudity and clothing neatly tossed aside. None of the house-elves bothered to check on them, nor did Draco's parents, and that was just the way they liked it.

Of course, the morning eventually came around, as it always did, and with it came a hangover, because that was simply what happened when two young men decided to drink far too much wine and tumble into bed. Draco awoke first (for once) with a loud, unhappy noise that earned him a lazy backhanded swat from his companion, who merely rolled over, tugging blankets away from the blond with a low growl.

"Malfoy, just go back to sleep," Theo muttered, one hand massaging his temples beneath the blankets he'd pulled up over his head. Draco huffed another annoyed noise, scooting over to that he could burrow under with him, one hand wrapping around Theo's waist.

"You can't tell me what to do. It's my room. I could kick you out."

"I'd like to see you _try_ ," Theo replied, rolling his eyes in a slow sort of way, hoping that it didn't make his head ache too much. It did.

Draco's face was promptly buried against his shoulder blade.

"This isn't really working for you, is it?"

"I'm trying to decide if I should get up to retrieve that hangover cure from my bathroom," Draco replied, the words muffled against Theo's skin.

"How is that even a question? Yes, you should go get it."

"Why don't you get it?"

"Because this is your fault, and I deserve nice things. That means you getting up and bringing it to me." With the added bonus of being able to watch Draco's pretty arse. It was a win-win for Theo, honestly.

"I hate you," the blond drawled unhappily, finally throwing the blankets aside so he could roll out of bed with a groan. He was met with perhaps the most obnoxious wail he'd ever heard in his life: an ear-piercing scream of an alarm that was enough to make him clap his hands over his ears with a yelp that was far too discordant. Theo scrambled for his wand, flicking it in a harsh way just to stop the obnoxious clanging.

Silence reigned for a long moment, and both boys let out an exasperated sigh. Draco padded slowly to his bathroom, one hand covering his face in the hope that that might help his hangover some. It didn't, but he came back soon enough with the bottle in hand, taking a swig before passing it off to his friend and flopping back into his bed. The curtains were closed, at least; that was one small blessing.

"What the _hell_ was that, Draco?" Theo finally asked, sounding more exhausted than anything else as he set the hangover cure on the nightstand to his side.

"Near as I can tell, an alarm," Draco replied, his words clipped as he pulled a pillow over his face. "Kill me. I think my head's trying to split itself open from the inside."

"No. You're going to suffer, because I have to. Why was there an alarm set to go off once you got out of bed?"

"Why would I know that?"

"Because it's your room, Malfoy."

"You say that like I remember anything from last night."

"I know you remember _something_ ," Theo said, rolling his eyes skyward. "And that was definitely not my fault, so you can't even try to pull that."

"I wasn't going to blame you for it-"

"Like _hell_ , you weren't," Theo scoffed, pushing the pillow off Draco's face. The blond merely responded with a roll of his eyes before reaching out to push Theo in return.

"Maybe it was both of us. What do you remember about last night?" Draco drawled, flopping back against the bed almost bonelessly. "Short of the obvious."

"I remember you taking it upon yourself to see if you could set various alarms, and then creep around the room without tripping them," Theo replied, mouth set into a lazy line as he regarded his best friend with raised eyebrows. Draco immediately coloured, staring at him a little.

"I did _not_."

"You sort of did.'

"I di-"

"Are you actually arguing with me when the proof just went off?" Theo smirked wryly, nudging Draco with one shoulder. "You know that's not going to work."

"I refuse to believe that. It's slander. I ought to take you to the Wizengamot for defamation of character," Draco replied, rolling over to drape one lazy arm over Theo's waist. The potion was finally kicking in, making the hangover a little more bearable. That didn't mean the blond wanted to get out of bed, though.

"Oh, like they'd believe anything that comes out of your mouth at this point."

"Excuse you."

"Seriously, Draco," Theo laughed. "They wouldn't take either of us seriously if we were to go in there for ' _defamation of character_ '. They'd laugh us straight out of the room without even hearing the case."

Draco sniffed, looking unhappy for a moment before sighing and burying his nose against Theo's neck, far too content to just cuddle than he ought to have been. "I hate it when you're right."

"Yeah, that's only because it's so much more often than when you're right."

"Oh, sod _off_."


	12. Concupiscence

  
_concupiscence_  
(n.) any yearning of the soul for good

"Oi."

Theo glanced over to Draco curiously, wondering why he was whispering. They were in the Three Broomsticks on a rare expedition out, and had been oddly well-received. Just a handful of dark looks when they went into a couple of the more populated shops, but as long as they kept their heads down and their mouths shut, things went rather well. Draco had happily done so, looking as much like he was trying to disappear as he ever did, and though Theo had just a bit more trouble managing it, he'd done so. Mostly for the blond's sake.

"What?" Theo asked, leaning a little closer so that he could properly hear the conversation above the din of the pub. People were laughing somewhere behind them. Unsurprising, given that they were hiding in the far back corner of the room, trying to be inconspicuous. It was working, funnily enough; once they had holed themselves away, people seemed content to just ignore that they were there at all.

"You think this was a good idea?" Draco asked quietly, concern written all over his face as he looked out over the laughing crowds of people, all of whom were having fun in their respective groups. It was the typical scene from their youth, right down to some of the people they could see. It looked like the Weasleys were having a night out: the remaining twin was having a laugh, clapping Ron on the back while the younger looked proud of himself, grinning out at his friends. The little Weaslette sat next to Potter, who looked like he was paying more attention to the story being told than his girlfriend, and Granger was beaming up at Ron proudly. It was a happy little scene.

"We could always leave," Theo suggested, pulling a face as though he found the whole thing disgusting. He twisted back around from looking at them, rolling his eyes at Draco. The blond chuckled a little, his smile wry and appreciative. 

"No, we can't. What would we do? Hide ourselves away forever in our parents' homes?"

"Well-"

"We're not doing it, Theo. Come on," Draco replied, scoffing softly. "We shouldn't have to hide. It wasn't our choice."

"We still have the Mark on our arms, don't we?"

" _Still_. We're supposed to suffer for the rest of our lives? We both know that- That all we want to do is live, right? We don't want to make a scene, we don't want to be the centre of attention-"

Theo scoffed, and Draco rolled his eyes.

"Shut up."

"Come on, Draco. Listen to yourself. Of course you want to be the centre of attention. You always have, you always will."

"I'm willing to make a concession if it means being left alone," Draco replied, his cheeks flushing a hot red.

"Sure, you are," Theo replied, his smirk somehow endearing and affectionate.

Silence fell between them as the blond simply took up his Butterbeer, sipping at it long and slow to try and gather his wits back about him.

"I'm just- I'm tired of seeing the way people look at me nowadays," Draco murmured softly after a long few minutes, his eyes locked on the table. "Like I'm this…pathetic waste of space."

The fact that Draco would even believe them made Theo's heart sink a little, tightening uncomfortably in his chest. Sure, it made sense - the blond had always cared just a little too much what people thought of him. When they thought highly of him, he was fine; his ego was intact. When they thought poorly of him, though? That was when his self-esteem fell through the floor. It was obvious to anyone who looked at him if he wasn't feeling quite right that day: he seemed to shrink into himself.

Just like he was doing right now. His shoulders were hunched a little, his chin was tucked in, his eyes down, locked on the table. His hands were wrapped around the mug, his elbows tucked in. He was definitely trying to hide.

"Draco."

The blond didn't look up, and so Theo repeated his name a bit louder, a bit sharper: "Draco. Look at me."

He did.

"You're not a waste of space. You're not pathetic. You survived, all right? We both did. We did it. Sooner or later, all of this is going to blow over, and you'll be able to do whatever you want again. All right?" Theo wasn't entirely sure how much of that he believed, but the point wasn't that he believed it, it was that Draco believed it. And if nothing else, Draco had stopped looking at the table like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Progress.

"But-"

"Don't give me 'but-', mate. I don't want to hear it. We're out in a pub. Where people know us. And have they lynched us yet? No. They don't seem to like that we're here, apparently tainting their space, but who gives a fuck what they think?"

Theo glanced back over his shoulder to where the Weasleys were all seated in the middle of the room. He paused after a second, realising that Granger was actually looking their way curiously, albeit subtly. As though she was trying to keep from drawing any attention over.

He still didn't like her.

"I certainly don't. Their opinions aren't worth anything to us, right?"

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but closed it after a moment.

" _Right_?" Theo prompted, eyebrows lifting. It was obvious he wasn't backing down.

"Right," Draco finally echoed, pursing his mouth.

Theo's hand covered Draco's subtly on the mug, thumb stroking a line against soft, pale skin. He squeezed once, and let go, his hand slipping away again.

"I don't think you're a pathetic waste of space, Draco. I'm your best friend, and it's my opinion that matters here."

Draco just smiled a little, biting back a response about how Theo's opinion was more than a little biased.


	13. Eleutheromania

  
_eleutheromania_  
(n.) an intense and irresistible desire for freedom

Theo got the letter in the early morning, and immediately upon receiving it, he had a feeling that Draco hadn't actually slept the night before. When he opened it, shooing the owl off of his desk, he effectively received confirmation of that thought: the letter was hastily written, but had been crossed out innumerable times. It looked as though Draco had started it one way, opted against it, rewritten it, scratched that out, rewritten it again, only to scratch that out too. It was an absolute mess, and hell to read.

A laugh tore from his lips before he could help it, mostly at how absolutely ridiculous the whole thing was. It was clear his best friend was in something of a panic, but with all the scratched out words, it was almost impossible to figure out what. It took one, then two read-throughs to get a grasp of it, and only then did Theo let the papers fall back down to the desk.

Written out between the lines of panic was a rough idea of what was going on: Narcissa was finally looking into matchmaking. It might have been too soon after the war for anything real to come of it, but that didn't seem to be stopping her. It had to happen sooner or later, after all: the Malfoys needed an heir. Theo figured they couldn't really be choosy at this point, not with the rumours and everything still fluttering around like obnoxious little birds twittering nastily in people's ears. Personally, he wouldn't stand for anyone who tried to bad-mouth the three of them (well, two - Lucius could probably fight his own battles there) in his presence, but he understood why they tended to just keep their heads down.

Still. What probably surprised Theo the most was that Draco's first bit of matchmaking was apparently to take place with one of the Greengrass girls. Not even the one they were in classes with - her little sister.

 _Is she even graduated yet?_ Theo wrote back, scribbling the words on a fresh sheet of parchment, ignoring how his hand smudged the letters slightly. _I don't think she's graduated. I think your mother is setting you up with a girl who's sixteen years old._

He could already imagine the letter he'd get back.

It took barely an hour before that same owl was perching again on the edge of his desk, giving him the evil eye. Theo rolled his eyes, taking the new letter off of her leg and rolling it flat.

_She's almost seventeen._

Oh, like that made it better.

_And there is nothing I dread more than marrying a Greengrass. You saw the looks Daphne used to give me when I'd look at her._

That was mostly because Draco had a tendency to appreciate just how short she rolled her skirt. There were never any wolf-whistles, but he hadn't exactly made the fact that he was looking subtle. Nor did he hide the fact that he rather liked to look at her chest.

_Can you imagine the looks I'd get if I were dating her younger sister?_

Oh yes, he definitely could. If looks could kill, Draco Malfoy would be dead a thousand times over. Especially once the relationship got to the point of him not keeping his hands to himself, which - according to Theo's experiences, at least - would last all of twenty minutes.

He skimmed through the rest of the letter, barely stifling his chuckles the rest of the way before scribbling out another reply and sending it off.

The back-and-forthing continued into the afternoon, when Draco finally just gave up on whatever he was actually supposed to do with his time, and Floo'd his way over, stepping through the fireplace in the study where Theo had draped himself unceremoniously over an entire couch. As per the usual, he began talking immediately.

"I can't do this. I really, _really_ can't do this."

"What, go on a date with the poor girl?" Theo asked, barely keeping a straight face as he kept reading the book resting against his lap. A smirk was threatening to crack his mouth wide, and keeping his eyes on the book made it that much easier to stop it. Or hide it, if nothing else. "She's pretty, at least."

"My mother actually seems to want me to marry her. I'm eighteen, Theo. I can't get _married_ ," Draco protested, his voice lifting up an octave as he crossed the room, dropping himself into an overstuffed chair.

"I don't know. I think you probably can. You're of age. She's almost there-"

Theo barely managed to duck the book that Draco threw at him, stifling another laugh.

"Seriously, mate, you need to calm down about the whole thing," he went on, snapping his book shut on a bookmark before casting a lazy glance over.

"I can't _calm down_. My mother wants me to get married."

"Did she actually say 'Draco Lucius Malfoy, you're getting married'? Or are you reading into things?"

"She didn't need to say anything. It was implied in the look she gave me when she told me Astoria was coming over tomorrow for dinner," Draco replied, panic written clear across his features.

"So it's dinner. What's the big deal?"

"The _big deal_ , Theo, is that dinner at my parents' house is hardly a casual first date."

"It also means that you could probably give her a couple glasses of wine and see about convincing her to stay the night."

"I'm not sleeping with her. I don't want to date her. I don't want to _anything_ with her."

Theo's heart skipped a little, though nothing outwardly changed. He merely arched one brow, looking vaguely amused. "So. Looks like you have something of a dilemma, then. What're you going to do?"

"Bitch at you for a while until the problem goes away."

Theo laughed. Not just a little bit, but a lot: the kind that resulted in doubling over. It was a bit put on, but it made Draco glare at him, and that was good enough.

"Prick."

"Says you."

Draco rolled his eyes hard, slumping back into the chair with a sigh. "I just want to-"

"Be free? Like a bird?"

"Fuck you."

"You've already done that," Theo idly pointed out, turning his attention back to his book as Draco rolled his eyes again.

"Do you at least _somewhat_ see where I'm coming from here?"

"Yeah," Theo confirmed, turning the page with a soft flutter. "You're too young to get married. You don't want to be tied down. You want to continue sowing your wild oats." _Preferably with me_ went unsaid.

"I wouldn't put it that way."

"No, but that's what you want to do. You don't want to date."

"What if she doesn't like me?"

"We've been over this, mate. What's not to like? And for that matter, what happened to that insufferable ego I always had to deal with? Where did that go?"

Draco scoffed. "It died beneath a pile of rubble at Hogwarts."

"Too soon," Theo replied, clicking his tongue disdainfully. Once again, grey eyes rolled skyward. "Look, just give it a go. Maybe she'll realise she doesn't want to date someone whose head is so swollen with hot air that he can't fit through doorways. Or maybe she'll decide she doesn't like tattoos." With that, he gave his left forearm a pointed little waggle. "It could fall through after the one dinner. You never know."

"Maybe I'll just hide out here, and you can lie and say you haven't seen me in a while. I'll be hiding in your bed if you need me," Draco replied, a small sneer of disdain tugging at his mouth. A chuckle escaped the brunet, and he eyed his best friend thoughtfully.

"As much as I don't like lying to your mother, you hiding in my bed might be worth it."

"Right. So I'll meet you up there, then," Draco drawled, smirking a little as he pushed himself up from the chair. It threatened to swallow him up, making the standing up process far more difficult than it should have been.

Theo glanced to him thoughtfully, sizing him up before smirking back. "You owe me, Malfoy."

"I'll start repaying the debt once we're upstairs."

It didn't take Theo long to get up there.


	14. Élan

  
_élan_  
(n.) distinctive and stylish elegance; impulsive, confident ardor

"Remind me why I have to be here?" Theo muttered under his breath, leaning a couple of inches closer to Draco slowly, in the hope that the steady tipping over wouldn't be noticed by Mrs Malfoy, who stood just ahead of them, her back ramrod straight and her chin held high as she awaited her guests.

"Because I bribed you, and you love me too much to let me deal with her alone," Draco replied, eyes subtly rolling as he leaned in a little as well, meeting him halfway. Theo was eternally grateful for the fact that his skin was tanned and currently didn't show off much of the faint blush that crept up his cheeks at the remark, and even more glad that Draco was too preoccupied with staring directly forward to have noticed at all.

" _Her_. Is that any way to treat your future bride, Draco?" Theo drawled, a teasing note coming into his voice, and finally the blond's eyes snapped over to him, looking thoroughly horrified.

"Bite your tongue."

" _Hush_ ," Narcissa declared from just ahead of them, and both boys immediately fell quiet. It didn't matter that they were both taller than her; Narcissa was the supreme ruler of the household and everyone knew it. Draco merely elbowed Theo in the ribs, getting a sharp expelling of breath for his trouble, and when his mother turned to glance over her shoulder at him, he offered up the most charming smile he could manage.

It was incredibly charming.

Of course, Narcissa being his mother, she didn't fall for it. But it still wasn't a wasted effort (or not much of one, at least).

The fireplace chose that precise moment to burst into bright green flames that licked harmlessly at the mantle, and Draco promptly made a point of fastening his smile in place, even if it meant pain in his cheeks. That pain came about sooner rather than later, funnily enough, and Theo found himself thoroughly entertained. Who would have guessed that so much hilarity would have come of Draco meeting (again; they already knew each other) Astoria Greengrass. Proper introductions needed to be made, after all. Never mind that they'd gone through school together already.

The moment the flames died down, there were three people stepping through, brushing off their skirts and robes of any infinitesimal speck of ash or dirt that may have there landed.

Narcissa stepped forward first, pressing a double air kiss to the eldest woman to step through - Mrs Greengrass, who practically oozed elegant - while the two daughters curtsied neatly. Astoria was more recognisable as the younger of the pair, her blond hair twisted up into an effortless bun, and her eyes immediately moved to Draco; there was something in the smile and the way it touched the corners of those eyes that was almost wicked, and it didn't go unnoticed by Theo. That smile was almost downright predatory.

Daphne, on the other hand, looked bored, and once she had completed her curtsey, she stifled a yawn behind one hand, offering the two boys a little wave. Introductions were made, people were swept to the various couches, and tea was quickly served.

"Pleasure seeing you two again," Daphne greeted both Draco and Theo as she leaned in to snag a biscuit along with her tea, one eyebrow carefully cocked. It was obvious, to Draco at least, that elegance ran in the family; it hadn't been quite as obvious back at Hogwarts, where style and confidence were tempered somewhat by the fact that you lived with all your classmates, but in this changed setting, it was much more obvious.

"I'd say the same for you, Daphne, but we all know that we were never that close," Theo murmured in response, careful to keep his voice down lest Narcissa scold him. Draco merely rolled his eyes.

"Well, _I_ think it's a pleasure," he added, and it was Theo's turn to roll his eyes.

"Suck-up."

"Fuck off."

Daphne put on a mock gasp of offence, her hand fluttering to her chest, and she immediately twisted to her sister, who seemed content in stirring another lump of sugar into her tea. The two mothers were conversing to one side, happily chattering away about this thing and that, leaving the four former classmates to their own conversation.

"Astoria, did you hear that?" She asked, her voice low as well so as not to disrupt their mother's conversation.

"No," Astoria merely answered, eyes landing on Draco again thoughtfully above the rim of her teacup; she took a slow sip of it, assessing him. "What did I miss?"

"Oh, nothing. Just this supposedly perfect match of yours having a _mouth_ on him. He'd put a sailor to shame."

"I would not," Draco protested, and Theo laughed.

"Sorry, mate. You sort of would."

Draco's eyes rolled skyward hard, and he loosed a sigh as he snatched up a biscuit of his own right from beneath Daphne's fingers. The other girl smirked over at him, making the expression seem delicate and somehow ladylike.

"Draco," she tsked, "Is that any way to treat your guests?"

"You're my mother's guest, technically."

Daphne's attention slipped back over to Astoria, and she gently nudged her sister. "You should nip that in the bud before it gets worse."

Astoria's mouth twitched upwards, an obvious attempt at trying not to smile too much. She was, after all, only sixteen - the youngest in the room. Though she clearly wasn't sold on the entire idea of matchmaking, she didn't exactly seem opposed to it. Perhaps it was merely that she wanted to see what Draco was like on his own; perhaps she just needed some time to deal with it and get used to it.

The tea seemed to go well, and before long, a good couple hours had passed. Little more than basic conversation had gone by, and none of them really seemed to know each other any more intimately than they had before. Daphne seemed completely unwilling to share anything beyond her opinions on whatever memories the boys dredged up from happier days, and Astoria joined in where she could. Eventually, however - once the tea was swept away by a particularly quiet house-elf - she reached out, lightly touching Draco's arm though it meant leaning across Theo.

"Draco," she murmured, eyes intently on him as she tried to catch his attention. The look that immediately coloured Theo's features was nothing short of jealous and displeased, almost as though he was barely biting back the urge to swat Astoria's fingertips away from Draco's forearm. If anyone noticed, they didn't say anything though.

"Hm?" He asked simply, inelegant surprise nearly making him dump his empty teacup onto the floor. Astoria just offered him a quiet smile.

"Would you show me the gardens?"

Both of them swept a quick look towards their mothers, and when they looked back at the other, it had been decided. Narcissa was more than happy to see the two of them connecting a bit, and Mrs Greengrass seemed all right with it if Mrs Malfoy was.

Within moments, they had both dislodged themselves from where they sat, leaving Theo and Daphne eyeing each other warily, and leaving the two mothers to their chatter.

\---

The day was surprisingly beautiful, all things considered. The brief bout of rain a day before seemed to have passed, giving way to a rare day: bright and sunny, with a warm breeze dancing around the backs of their necks. Astoria kept a polite distance as Draco gave her a tour, thoughtfully pointing out and describing all manner of things that most people would have found slightly odd. A hydrangea bush that had been planted for this reason, a rose bush that had been grown just so; a hedge maze in the distance that had been there for as long as he could remember, punctuated with a story about getting lost as a small child. The open expanse of grass where he broke his first bone falling off his first broom. She smiled in all the right places, remarking on the right things, and only after they had finished a half hour long jaunt around the perimeter did she reach out to touch his arm again.

Apparently she was confident, even for sixteen. Draco certainly hadn't been that confident at her age, never mind that he had quite a few things going on in his life. Still, it was a bit astounding that she might actually be interested in him, all things considered.

"How about we get ourselves lost in that maze for a bit?" She suggested, her smile quiet, demure, and absolutely wicked.

He cast a thoughtful glance back to the house, to the parlour windows he could see from where they stood, then back to her. "Yeah, all right," Draco agreed, offering her an arm so they could take off together for a brief, spontaneous adventure. He was already planning on telling Theo about the whole thing, and this would only add to the thing. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad after all.


	15. Floccinaucinihilipilification

  
_floccinaucinihilipilification_  
(n.) the act of deciding that something is useless

It was pointless. Absolutely useless. There was no reason for Theo to even _think_ about it now, because it was never ever going to happen. He'd missed his shot somehow. He didn't even know how. It was like he was doing all right, and then he blinked, and suddenly Draco's affections had swung far to the other end of the spectrum. Astoria Greengrass. Who knew that such a horrible afternoon tea would go so swimmingly for the blond?

Theo wasn't jealous, though. He refused to call it that. Yes, he was lamenting that Draco actually seemed to like the girl his parents were nudging him towards, but he still wasn't going to admit to jealousy. It was unbecoming, and furthermore, felt as though he was actually acknowledging that he had feelings for his best friend. That was out of the question, even if he already knew that it was true. He would rather keep it to himself.

Which meant, of course, quietly seething in the privacy of his own home.

He was in half a mind to send an owl off to Draco, bitching about this, that, or the other thing, but he knew full well that the blond would see through it all. He was astute when he wanted to be, and any time it involved him tended to be a time he wanted to be. Of course, Draco had somehow missed all of Theo's slightly longing stares during school when no one else had, but maybe he just liked all the attention.

Actually, he definitely liked all the attention. Theo had been a guaranteed audience almost the entire time, and with Draco, that meant he was automatically moving up the ranks of who mattered most. He could still brag about being his best friend, after all, and that didn't look like it was going to change any time soon. Well, Theo hoped, at least.

Still, if things went particularly well with Astoria, who knew what kind of turn things might take. Maybe Theo would suddenly be out a good friend, abandoned because of Draco's tendency to only be able to focus on one thing at a time. (A bit laughable, maybe, but a possibility.) Or perhaps Theo would be forced to go along on double dates with Daphne. (Even more laughable; Daphne wouldn't put up with him, and Theo would make an arse of himself remarking upon things no one wanted remarks made upon.)

The fact of the matter was that things were changing, despite neither of them liking change all that much, and fighting it was pointless. Not a fact he was ready to really accept, but one he would have to. Eventually. Sometime next week, perhaps. Or maybe a year from now. Hell, maybe at Draco's wedding. Sooner or later though, he was just going to have to stop wringing his hands and deal with it. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

Theo was snapped out of his thoughts by a loud crack next to him, a house-elf appearing out of nothingness only to stare at him with a combination of hope and wariness in large, watery eyes.

"What?" He asked, staring down at the thing.

"Master Nott, sir, is having a guest downstairs."

"You're kidding me. Who?"

"Master Malfoy, sir."

"Draco or Lucius?"

The house-elf blinked watery eyes, apparently not knowing the difference between the two. Theo just rolled his eyes. "Skinny with short hair, or old with long hair?"

"The skinny Master Malfoy!" The elf declared, tensing suddenly as though afraid that she might get beaten for the remark.

"All right. Thanks," he answered deftly, flicking one wrist to dismiss her. She nodded, bowing deeply enough to nearly hit her head on the floor, and Disapparated with a loud crack, leaving Theo alone once again to sigh. As always, Draco had astounding timing.

It was but moments before Theo was down at the down, where Draco had already shed his light jacket and tossed it aside, making himself comfortable on one of the lower stairs as he waited, sprawling out to show off exactly how long his legs were. It was completely unnecessary unless one wanted to show himself off, and it was pretty obvious that that was exactly what Draco wanted.

He glanced up when Theo came down, offering a faint smile before tipping his head to one side. "Are you avoiding me?"

"What? No," Theo scoffed, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. "Why would I avoid you?"

"Astoria?"

Once again, Theo just scoffed, flapping one hand as though to dismiss the entire conversation.

It was Draco's turn to roll his eyes. " _Please_."

"All right, I might be avoiding you a little. I figured you'd come by eventually to come figure out whether or not I was. And hey - here you are."

"You had a lot of faith in that."

"You can't resist me, Draco," Theo drawled, his tone almost a purr.

"You're crap at seducing people," Draco chuckled, tipping his chin up to look at his best friend a little better. Theo dropped to sit a couple stairs above, leaning in so there wasn't much space left between them.

"I've managed it before, haven't I?"

"I don't know that I'd go _that_ far."

"How far _would_ you go?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Theo smirked a little, shrugging one shoulder. "All right, Malfoy," he started, tone a bit more detached. As though he didn't care, as though it didn't matter as much as it did. "Just tell me one thing: is it even worth the effort?"

Draco draped himself back against the railing, his legs sprawled against the stair where he sat, chin tipping up a little more. "Once again. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Not an answer."

The blond merely paused, a faint smirk creeping up along his mouth. "Well, it's not like Tori and I are actually official or anything. It was tea."

"Barely an answer."

"But?"

Theo sniffed, vaguely annoyed that Draco could read him like a book. There had been no 'but' there, and yet-

"But I'll take it."


	16. Chimerical

  
_chimerical_  
(adj.) created by unchecked imagination; fantastically visionary or highly improbable

Everyone had their little fantasies: it was practically human nature to be presented with one thing and imagine the myriad possibilities that stemmed off from it. Draco did it for virtually everything, and quite shamelessly too. He had always imagined vast possibilities for himself, whether it was when he was little, pretending to be the next great Seeker for England (or whatever the good team of the season was; he just wanted his name to be cheered loudly as he flew on by), or when he got older, imagining himself in the papers, his face surrounded by cheery, eager headlines of _MALFOY HEIR, GREATEST WIZARD YET!_ or something perhaps a bit less vague. He wasn't picky. The point was merely that he had always dreamt of success, and furthermore, of people _knowing_ about that success. Unsurprisingly, the two had to be connected. It wouldn't be enough to just be successful, and it wouldn't be enough to just have his name known to everyone he met.

After all, he had the latter, and it wasn't that fulfilling.

But somehow, even more unsurprisingly, he had no idea _how_ he wanted that success to come about. When he was younger, it was obvious, but once he graduated from a toy broom to a proper one, it became a little bit more obvious that he would never be that star of the pitch that he'd always hope he'd be. He was fast, but not quite fast enough; he was nimble, but not nimble enough. There was always someone who could beat him. Never mind that he'd fared brilliantly against the various Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Seekers. As long as Harry Potter had headed up Gryffindor, there was no point; it was a lost cause, and he was reduced down to second best yet again, his team berating him for not playing hard enough, or not training enough, or not focusing enough. It always became about his rivalry with Potter, and never about his skills. It was always 'you're not good enough' and never 'this is how you can get better'.

Suffice to say, Draco didn't have a whole lot of self-esteem at this time in his life. It was still astounding to him that, after the War, anyone would like him. Or deal with him. Or, hell, acknowledge him in any way now that they didn't have to. Astoria didn't have to hang out with him as often as she had been lately, and neither did Theo. Neither of them were being forced to stick around, or to offer their company (and more, as in Theo's case). Yet both made themselves fairly obvious in the sense that Draco knew full well meant they were open to anything he might need them for.

In Theo's case, it made sense. In Astoria's, though- Well, she was proving to be quite the surprise. A pleasant one, at that. He wasn't entirely certain what to make of it, actually. Tori was not only good company, but a good ear, and despite them both disliking the notion of being set up by their parents, it was almost easy to pretend that they were going out for lunch dates of their own volition.

So it was well within the realm of possibility for him to start letting his imagination run wild as he pondered over exactly where all this might go, and how things might pan out. It happened at random times, like when he was making tea, or when he was brushing his teeth; it was times like those that made him drift away into some random thought, like what life would be like if he just turned his head to the side and caught a glimpse of Theo or Tori draped across his bed, tossing in unrelated remarks about whatever they felt like. Or hell, both of them at once.

That would be something.

It wasn't like he often imagined himself to be in relationships with multiple people. Relationships with one person were hard enough without having to worry about a third person in the equation. But still, it would be something. He wouldn't have to give either of them up, he wouldn't have to choose. He could just wrap himself up in the affection that Theo already had, and the interest that Tori seemed to be nurturing carefully and quietly. None of the three seemed terribly interested in baring their souls to the others, after all.

Astoria was wary and hesitant, perhaps largely about getting into a relationship with someone two years her senior who bore a Dark Mark on their arm. Theo wasn't willing to admit anything that might compromise him, whether now or in the future. And Draco just preferred to shut himself away from as many people as he could to prevent himself from getting more hurt than he already had.

Perhaps they were all made for each other, in some regard.

That would _definitely_ be something.


	17. Whelve

  
_whelve_  
(v.) to bury something deep; to hide

Draco wasn't hiding. Hiding was a coward's way to do things, and he was doing his best to not be a coward any more. It was tad difficult, though, particularly when the things he was faced with were just this side of completely terrifying. Let everyone else have the bravery to stand up to whatever they wanted to; Draco was content just settling back and gathering what he had to himself. That meant being uncustomarily appreciative for everything that he had: his friends, his family, the fact that he wasn't dead or in Azkaban. He had a well-bred, pretty girl interested in him, he had a best friend who hadn't abandoned him (and probably wouldn't at this point), and even though the rest of his school friends had effectively fucked off after the war, they still wrote every now and then. Mostly just Pansy, though. But at least her letters were entertaining enough.

But he definitely wasn't hiding. Hiding involved not just actively staying out of the limelight - which he, admittedly, was doing - but attempting to make himself smaller. Less noticeable. He had retreated out of some of the circles he used to travel in, but he was no less obvious when he did go out, and go out he did. He and Astoria had hit up a pub just the other night, and though they'd sat on an edge, that was mostly for privacy's sake. It was a date. People liked cosy, intimate spaces for dates.

Just because he hadn't yet come right out and made some of his intentions clear didn't mean that he was hiding. He was definitely sure about that. Obviously it came up a lot, drifting in and out of his head like an unwanted mantra; he absolutely refused to believe that it was true. It couldn't possibly be true. He was merely weighing the pros and cons of the discussion.

After all, Draco knew full well that if he mentioned to Theo he was interested in pursing him in any sort of way, he might end up breaking his best friend's brain, and he knew that if he said the wrong thing to Astoria at the wrong time, the chance of his getting dumped right then and there was fairly high. The former wasn't as negative as it could be; it would probably go all right, all things considered. But the latter?

Not something he wanted to tempt.

So that was that. He was just…biding his time, really. Yes. Biding his time.


	18. Taaradhin

  
_taarradhin_  
(n.) a compromise where everyone wins

Astoria sipped her Butterbeer slowly, eyes locked on Draco where he sat adjacent to her and Theo at the corner booth in the pub they'd agreed to meet in. Theo was mostly just studying the pair of them, drifting back into his seat as much as he could: he was remarkably good at making himself unassuming. Draco, however, was the picture of casual, capable of not showing nearly so much of the nervousness that was tying his stomach up in knots. It had been a good few weeks since the thought initially crept into his head unbidden and set up shop for the long haul. That hadn't actually made him any more comfortable with it, funnily enough.

But with Astoria as his known girlfriend now, and Theo looking just slightly nauseated any time he had to be in the same room as the pair of them, he thought that it was probably high time he said something. Idly, though. One couldn't simply broach the topic of dating more than one person at the same time, especially not in the way Draco would prefer. He just wanted to wrap himself up in the pair of them night after night.

"So is anyone actually going to talk?" Tori asked, eyebrows arching slightly as she finally dragged her eyes away from Draco. An expectant look was turned on Theo, who arched a brow in return.

"The two of you are on a date, and I was invited for no reason I could see. Don't look at me for amusement," he replied.

Draco rolled his eyes and sipped his own Butterbeer, pausing as a waitress brought them their sandwiches. "It's not a date, it's a get-together. If it were a date, I'd be sitting closer to her, and you'd have never been invited at all."

"You're not seriously telling him that you'd be trying to get your tongue down my throat the whole time?" Tori asked, rolling her eyes. It was met with a little smirk from Draco, and Theo rolled his eyes as well.

"I don't want to see that, thanks."

One hand fluttered through the air before Draco went on, pursing his mouth slightly. "The point is this isn't a date."

"Whatever you say, mate," Theo replied, attention dropping down to his sandwich. He had an appetite that day, and contentedly dug into it. It was Draco's treat anyway; who was he to turn down a free sandwich?

Astoria just threw Draco a questioning look, silently asking if it really wasn't a date. It was tinged with something like mild annoyance, like she wasn't entirely sure how she ought to be reacting to that knowledge, and he responded to it with a little smile before digging into his sandwich as well.

The conversation picked up a little about halfway through their meals, and Draco slowly began to steer it around; neither of his friends seemed to notice in the slightest, a fact for which he was exceedingly grateful.

"I heard Ginny Weasley was off dating two blokes now. Some sort of open relationship," Draco mused aloud around another sip of Butterbeer, and Theo smirked a little.

"Honestly, I'm surprised she could get one, let alone two."

"I'm not. She's pretty enough, though her personality leaves something to be desired," Tori replied with an idle shrug, popping the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth.

"If you like Weasleys, I suppose."

"Have you ever seen the older ones?" A wicked curve took to her mouth, and there was a devious glint to her eyes. "One's a _dragon tamer_. I think that's brilliant."

Theo held up one hand. "This train of thought is getting derailed right now, before I have to listen to Draco make a crack about you being a dragon tamer."

Draco clicked his tongue in disappointment and Tori just shot him an amused look. Once he'd recovered from the brief disappointment of not getting to make that crack, he tipped his chin up at Theo.

"Would you ever do it?"

"Ginny Weasley, or an open relationship?"

"Open relationship."

"Good. For a second there, I thought that you'd actually ignored every word out of my mouth for the past decade or so," Theo scoffed, then shrugged. "Sure. If I ever felt like getting into a relationship."

"I only would if the people getting involved were tolerable," Tori volunteered, sipping her drink again before flicking a loose blonde curl back over her shoulder. "Otherwise it would be way more work than any one person should deal with. Can you imagine? All the problems of one relationship, but twofold. You'd have to deal with jealousy from one over the fact that you were spending too much time with the other, or something like that."

"I'm fairly certain there are ways around that," Draco replied, and she glanced over to him again, eyebrows rising.

"Why, Draco," she started, her voice almost a purr. "It sounds like you want to try it."

He just shrugged casually, trying to keep his cheeks from flushing too much. Theo's eyes were locked on him curiously and warily, as though he wasn't sure where this was going.

"Well. Do you?" Astoria prompted, giving his arm a little nudge.

"I don't know. It's an interesting thought."

"That's _vague_."

"Do you?" Theo asked after another moment, echoing the sentiment with something threading through his voice that seemed tightly contained. Like he was doing his best not to show any sort of emotion. Tori's eyes slid over to him, and Draco knew that she'd heard it too.

Her eyes narrowed faintly as though she was piecing things together, and then a small, wary smirk curved her mouth.

"Draco, you never did tell me if there was anything between you and Theo."

"There's-"

"We're friends," Theo jumped in, his words too quick to be true.

Astoria's eyebrows went up, and she finished her Butterbeer, pushing the glass aside. "Well, this has been informative. I'm going to go for a walk and do a little window shopping. Draco, Firecall me later, hm?" She leaned in, pressing a kiss to her boyfriend's cheek despite Draco turning a little into it, almost trying to catch her mouth with his own, and offered them both a little smile as she hoisted her bag up over one shoulder. "See you, Theo."

The boys both watched her go: Draco, with no small amount of apprehension and horror written right on his face; Theo, with some sort of internalised terror. Finally, Theo looked back at his best friend.

"She _knows_ , Draco."

"I can't tell if she's pissed or thoughtful."

"Draco. _Draco_. We're fucked."

"Are you sure?"

"W-" Theo stuttered, closing his mouth tightly after a second before glancing back to the door for a hasty second. Astoria actually looked cheerful where she could be glimpsed through the large front windows of the pub. "No."

"No. All right. Then we're not fucked. And- Maybe she's just thoughtful."

The look on Theo's face suggested he thought Draco was an idiot.

"Why in the hell did you ask that, anyway?"

"Honestly?"

Another of those same looks.

"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad."

Theo looked incredulous for a moment before shaking his head, his cheeks flushing just a touch. All at once, his eyes flicked away from Draco, and he too pushed away from the table.

"Thanks for lunch, mate. I'll owl you later."

"Yeah," Draco replied, entirely unsure of what just happened as he watched his friend take his untimely leave as well, leaving him alone with the bill in that corner of the pub.


	19. Solecism

  
_solecism_  
(n.) a grammatical mistake, a minor blunder in speech  
(n.) a breach of etiquette or decorum

"Please tell me you were kidding earlier," Astoria's voice carried clear and annoyed through the Firecall. The annoyance was masked well enough that most people probably wouldn't have noticed it, but Draco spent so much time listening for it that it came through thinly-veiled at best. He all but winced as he listened to the greeting, then carefully shrugged.

Playing innocent was a horrible idea, he knew. It seemed like the best way to find himself castrated by the fiery younger Greengrass sister. He could only imagine what would have happened if he'd been dating Daphne instead of Tori; Daphne's temper was actually known as the worse of the two, unsurprisingly. She was older and put up with far more shit. No longer, though, and she had obviously taught Tori her ways.

"Well, I-"

"Think carefully about what you're going to say, Malfoy," she warned, ire burning in her eyes. Or maybe that was just the nature of the Firecall; he couldn't tell.

"First of all, am I going to get dumped unceremoniously if I say something you don't like?"

"No. Your mother would probably pull me aside for a very long conversation about why, if that were the case."

Draco sniffed. "All right, bu-"

"We might go on a break, though."

His shoulders slumped slightly.

"You know I fancy you, Tori," he tried, hoping to butter her up a little bit first.

Astoria looked a touch surprised, though part of it appeared to be mocking. "I had no idea, Draco. You never tell me these things."

"I tell you I like you all the time."

"Do you _love_ me?"

"We've been together a month."

He watched Tori roll her eyes again, the gesture big enough to be conveyed through the flames. "So you don't."

"So I'm still working on figuring it out."

"And do you love Theo?"

"What? N- He's my best friend!"

"That's not an answer, Draco."

"Are you trying to get me to tell you that I love him more than I love you, and that's why I was asking if we could have an open relationship? So I can shag you, and shag him, and generally shag myself silly?"

Her head merely tipped to one side. That was exactly what she was trying to get him to say. Or at least deny.

He opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then whet his lips with the tip of his tongue.

"I-"

"You took _far_ too long."

"Tori!"

"Are you going to deny it?"

"In the name of being honest, no, but-"

"But?"

"But I don't love him more than you. I don't know what I feel."

" _Quelle surprise_ , Draco."

"Don't start scolding me in French. You'll sound like my mother."

"And we all know that every boy loves to date his mother," she drawled, twirling a blonde lock around her forefinger as she regarded him coolly through the flames.

Draco coloured, his face going a neat shade of pink. It probably wasn't as obvious as the look of sheer awkwardness on his face, but it was obvious enough.

"Well," he started again, slowly this time. "I still don't know what I feel."

"Perhaps you should think about it," Astoria suggested then, shrugging one shoulder.

"And then?"

"And then maybe I'll think about it."

"Really?"

"Sure," Tori answered, shrugging again. "Why not?"

"All right," Draco said, expression brightening slightly. "I…think I can do that."

"Well, I hope for your sake that you can."

"Fret not, darling. I'm a Malfoy. I can do anything I set my mind to."

She could practically hear the smirk in his voice, made all the more obvious by the fact that it was pulling his face wide.


	20. Epanorthosis

  
_epanorthosis_  
(n.) taking back or correcting one's words even while saying them; thinking better of saying something

"All right, so-" Draco started, tonguing the back of his teeth. He had messed up nicely last time around, and he sincerely hoped that the same wasn't going to be said for this turn of events. At the very least, it was just him and Theo now; Astoria had given him a little time to figure out what exactly he was doing, what he was trying to say before he had to come back to her. And so, he was going to make the most of dealing with his best friend.

If nothing else, Theo didn't always laugh at him. He seemed to be taking this conversation quite seriously, in fact.

"-so," Draco began again, eyes turning skyward as he tried to figure out his words in advance. Theo's eyebrows just arched up neatly, and he studied his friend intensely, as though it might somehow help him figure out what was going on.

"So apparently I fancy you," the blond finally managed, and Theo's eyebrows shot up, nestling amongst his hairline.

"Excuse me?"

"You're not actually going to make me say it again, are you?"

"Uh, _yes_ , I very much am. Repeat yourself, Malfoy. I think I'm hearing things."

"I fancy you, Nott," Draco deadpanned, mouth pursed into an unhappy line. Theo stared at him for another long moment, pushing one hand through his hair slowly before finally narrowing his eyes a little.

"You're kidding, right?"

"You think I'd say it in the first place if I were kidding? _Please_. Kill me. I can think of a thousand better things to do with my time than spew love confessions over cold tea," Draco snarked, fidgeting with said teacup and the edge of his sleeve. His eyes were no longer directed up at Theo, but down at the table, a faint trace of colour touching his cheekbones.

"Oh my Gods," Theo stated after a beat. "You-"

"What?"

"You _actually_ do?"

"You were never this stupid before, Theo. Did you happen to take a Bludger to the skull the other day or something?"

"No, I'm just-"

"Just what?"

"Just trying to-" Theo stopped, his brain running a mile a minute. It was obvious, just from the way he held himself, that he was trying to slow it down long enough to grasp what he was thinking of. "Look, we've been doing this…this _thing_ for ages, right? And it's sort of- I don't know, you telling me that you _fancy_ me is sort of the last thing I expected to hear."

Draco's cheeks coloured further. "And why's that?"

"Because I- Well, because you're you."

"What?"

"You do- I'm digging myself into a hole, aren't I?" Theo asked mildly, shrinking back a little.

"A little bit," Draco told him, pursing his mouth.

Silence reigned for a long moment, and finally, Theo just spat it out: "I like you too. I have for a while. Like…a long while."

"I- What?"

Theo sniffed, and it was his turn to colour. For the most part, the faint pink flush was hidden beneath the natural tan of his skin, but it was definitely there, tempered somewhat with the annoyance Theo seemed to be directing internally.

"And then you were with Astoria, and you looked happy, and I figured I'd just let well enough alone. You're my best friend, and that's plenty. And then you had to open your stupid mouth and start going on about open relationships-"

The words caught in the brunet's throat, and he averted his eyes, worrying his lip as he tried to figure out where he was going with this. Draco just stared at him, grey eyes slightly wide and trying to follow the whole thing. Meanwhile, his mind couldn't help but go back to the exasperation that Astoria had felt at the suggestion, at the sudden realisation that there was likely more going on under her nose than initially anticipated. Now he got what she was so frustrated with.

He pushed himself up to half-standing, leaning across the table so he could just press a quick kiss to Theo's mouth, effectively shutting him up. It worked in the past, it worked now, and it would probably continue to work.

"You know why I'm saying anything at all?" Theo shook his head, apparently not following as well as he could have. "Because - and Astoria realised this first, you know - apparently I had ulterior motives for bringing it up at all. And I was thinking about it, because I do that now. Using my brain, like the clever wizard I am."

Theo scoffed.

Draco just continued on, lifting his voice as if to cover up the scoff, and he sat himself back down at the same time, "I was thinking about it, and she was right. I want both of you at the same time. We _have_ had that _thing_ , as you so eloquently put it, for ages now, and she's new, but exciting. And I don't like knowing that as long as I'm with her, I can't do anything with you."

"So you're greedy and selfish," Theo offered, arching one brow. "What else is new?"

"Excuse you. This benefits all of us."

"Does it?"

"You just told me you're in love with me, need I remind you," Draco drawled, smirking now. He was on a roll, confidence building back up.

Theo opened his mouth, immediately protesting: "I didn't say that. I said I liked you. There's a difference-"

"Not much of one."

Theo pursed his mouth, glaring daggers at his best friend. "The point is I can't see how this benefits us all."

"You never said anything because of Astoria. It could be a moot point."

"And?"

"That means you could have me, Theo."

The brunet paused for just a second, frowning, then narrowing his eyes again. "Like, actually…?"

"Yes, like actually. As in, you could call me your boyfriend, if you really wanted to. Seems a bit…" Draco paused, sniffing, but shrugged. "But it's up to you."

"Only if she said yes, though. Right?" Theo asked warily.

"Right."

"And what're the chances of that?"

"Well, I don't know. But it's worth a shot."

Theo pulled a face, the expression suggesting he wasn't entirely sure about that, but he might be willing to give it a go. Draco just smirked, feeling a bit better about it. Admittedly, his parents would probably have a fit, but whatever got them a grandchild in the end, he had a feeling they wouldn't argue with.


	21. Cafuné

  
_cafuné_  
(v.) running your fingers through your lover's hair

Draco had a bit of a thing about people touching his hair. He loved it. Not in some sort of weird way; it was just one of those things that he was partial to, that made him relax a little bit more, and that he tended to reserve for close friends or lovers. Few others even seemed to know exactly how it affected him, and that was just how he liked it.

He had his head in Astoria's lap, and she was gently playing with the soft, platinum blond that made itself so available to her fidgeting fingers. She had little else to do with her hands, unless she felt like just draping one over Draco's shoulder, and he had a feeling that sitting still might have proven difficult for her after their little rift of the week before. Judging by the fact that she'd not only let him lie there, and wasn't seething, he had a feeling they were past it.

Theo sat opposite them, draping himself across a comfortable overstuffed chair. It reminded him of back in school, when their little group would take over the common room and have loud conversations until everyone left them alone. Astoria hadn't been there at the time, but had likely seen or heard it; Daphne had been more involved in it, though usually just to point out that they were being twits. Most of those remarks were ignored in favour of making more loud comments about this thing or that.

This time, though, everyone was quiet. Theo finally cleared his throat, lifting his eyebrows as he looked between the pair of them.

"So. Anyone going to talk?"

"Yes, Draco. Are you going to talk?" Tori asked sweetly, tangling her fingers lazily through his hair.

Draco just sighed, rolling his eyes. "I don't have to sit up while I do so, do I?"

"No," both of the others agreed, Theo shrugging one shoulder.

"Fine," Draco agreed then, shifting a little to get more comfortable. "So I told Theo I liked him."

"Oh, did you?" Astoria asked, her gaze flicking over to the other man. Theo's cheeks almost went a neat shade of pink, but seemed to settle for just a bit more bright than usual.

"Yes. And then I thought about it more, and I decided that I like you too," he told her, tipping his head back just enough to be able to look up at her properly. Tori's expression didn't change; she remained unreadable. It sort of annoyed Draco, actually. But obviously not enough to get his head out of her lap.

"Is that all?"

"Excellent question," Theo remarked from his armchair, watching them both with mild amusement. "Why am I here again?"

"Because I want to give that open relationship thing a go," Draco sighed, rolling his eyes.

"I think the real conversation ought to be between Theo and myself, to decide if we want to," Tori said, tugging Draco's hair a little. "What do you think, Theo? Do you want to put up with this young man's antics?"

"Sort of," Theo answered honestly, shrugging one shoulder. "He's attractive and good in bed, and I've been putting up with his antics anyway. May as well get something out of it, don't you think?"

"You are absolutely no help."

A lazy smirk curved Theo's mouth, and he shrugged again, eyes flicking down to meet Draco's. Astoria glanced between the two of them for a moment, going silent as she thought about the options presented to her.

"How would it work?" She finally asked.

"How would what work?" Draco asked in return.

"The relationship. Are you dating him and I separately, or are the three of us somehow dating each other? And what if I want to do things with just you, rather than him?"

"You can do things with whomever you want. I don't care," Draco replied, frowning a little. "As long as you still pay attention to me. I'm your boyfriend, after all."

"Well, I think that's up for debate," Astoria wryly answered. "You didn't answer my question."

"Do you _want_ to date him too?"

"Don't I get any say in this?" Theo asked.

"No," Draco answered, glancing over. He met Theo's resulting glare with a smirk.

"Well. Why don't we just take it one day at a time?" Astoria finally suggested, letting the boys get past their brief moment. "And if something comes up, we deal with it then."

"How absolutely logical. Why didn't we think of that?" Theo asked, voice just a touch wry. Draco merely rolled his eyes at the remark, and Astoria fidgeted with his hair another moment longer, her mouth pinched into an expression of mild distaste.

"How about you come over here, instead of sitting all the way over there?" She suggested finally, and Theo lifted his eyebrows in response, staring for a moment. He did, however, eventually push himself up from the overstuffed chair, slowly making his way over to the couch where the pair of them were sprawled out. Draco lifted his legs without prompt, making room for his best friend, then replaced them on Theo's lap, effectively draping across them both. It was actually very comfortable.

"We'll see how this goes first," Astoria declared, and neither of the boys bothered to argue with it.


	22. Nedovtipa

  
_nedovtipa_  
(n.) someone who cannot take a hint

"You're kidding."

Astoria sighed loudly and flicked the page of her book over, making a show of pointedly ignoring her sister in favour of the book resting against her thighs.

"No, seriously. You're kidding. Tell me you're kidding, Tori," Daphne pestered, sitting a little bit closer so she could simply reach over and steal the book right out of Astoria's hands. Astoria protested, pursing her mouth into an unhappy line as she shot Daphne a dark look. "Tell me, and I'll go away."

"I'm kidding."

"Now say it like you mean it," Daphne replied dryly, rolling her eyes. "I can't _believe_ you'd let this happen."

"What, like you'd have been able to say no?"

"Of course I would have."

"Like hell."

"Watch your mouth. If Mother hears you-"

"Mother's out, otherwise you wouldn't be having this conversation with me."

Daphne rolled her eyes again. "You and Draco could've had something, you know."

"We do have something."

"You've got something with another something in between. That's called a third wheel. What the _hell_ are you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I like him, and it was either this, or watch him pine away for someone he can't have. He's doting enough, you know." Astoria shifted uncomfortably beneath the weight of her older sister's stare, mouth pursing again. "He's surprisingly sweet. And it's just a trial run. I sincerely doubt he's ever going to completely drop me for Theo, you know. His parents would have a fit."

"He's the only one with anything to lose here, Tori."

"I _know_ that," she replied, her voice growing slightly pitchy before she inhaled and exhaled a deep sigh. "I know full well that Theodore has no one to report back to, and the rumours have been going around for ages that he doesn't give a damn about his family name. I know that I could probably find anyone I wanted to get married to. And I know that people who want to eventually marry themselves off to a _Malfoy_ are at an all-time low."

"So why are you letting him call the shots?"

"Because what else does he have?"

Daphne went quiet at that, blinking.

"Now could you please let me alone about this? It's hard enough to follow without you pestering me for answers all the time, you know," Astoria went on, sighing again softly.

Slowly, Daphne held out the book again, her brows arched neatly.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Tori. I don't want him breaking your heart."

Astoria's mouth pursed again, this time in an uncertain pout; she didn't answer. Daphne shifted a little where she sat, waiting until Astoria had taken her book back and turned her attention back to it before she got up and did as she was asked, leaving the room silently. Her sister's eyes remained on the book for a long moment before she finally glanced back up to the open door and let out another sigh. She wasn't sure about any of this, not at all.


	23. Sarang

  
_sarang_  
(n.) love; lit. "I wish to be with you until death"

"Are you sure about all this, Draco?" Theo asked quietly, threading his fingers lazily through the blond's messy hair. Draco lay half-facing him, tangled up in the sheets and slowly putting his arm to sleep. Not that Theo was complaining; there were some things well worth pins and needles, and Draco was one of them. The blond was bleary, happy, and obviously sated, eyes twinkling pleasantly beneath his lashes.

"Do i look sure about it?"

"You look thoroughly fucked out," Theo replied, smirking a little.

Draco rolled over slightly, stretching his arms high above his head as he groaned happily. "That'd be because I am."

"And what's Astoria make of it?"

"She knows exactly where I am. We agreed I'd take her out tomorrow night. Make a proper evening of it and everything," Draco shrugged, smiling over. "You get one night, she gets one night. Fair enough."

"And a date with the three of us?"

"What, you want one?" Draco asked, arching one brow lazily. He wasn't against it, not in the slightest. Arranging it wouldn't pose too much trouble anyway, and spending the evening with the pair of them wasn't too different from some of Draco's favourite nights.

Theo just wrinkled his nose, running his fingers through the blond's hair again.

"Well?" Draco asked.

"I'm not saying anything."

"Why's that?"

"Because I hate dealing with emotions, and this is loads easier."

"What, shagging?" Draco chuckled, rolling over again so he could drape himself over Theo, one arm lazily circling around the other man's shoulder and head so he could futz with his hair in return. "You're right, it is loads easier. Honestly, I've been imagining how we're going to make threesomes work."

Theo let out a short bark of laughter. "Do I still get to have you?"

"Since when have you preferred men?"

"I prefer you," he replied mildly.

"Unsurprising. Most people prefer me. I've ruined so many people for sex," Draco drawled, smirking wide.

Theo just rolled his eyes at that, giving his best friend a proper swat. Draco grinned inappropriately, leaning in to catch Theo's mouth with his own for a lazy kiss. Finally, the brunet had to just push him away, chuckling weakly as he did so, as though he was having a hell of a time managing it.

"Don't distract me."

"But it's so _easy_ ," Draco replied, mouthing a kiss against Theo's collarbone. It warranted another swat, though it too dissolved into carding his fingers through Draco's hair.

"I wonder why _that_ is."

"Haven't the slightest."

"Really?" Theo laughed. "Oh, mate. You have no idea."

"Care to fill me in?"

"No," he answered simply, another brisk laugh escaping him. "No, I'll not. Not even if you paid me."

"Not like paying you would do much good. Your vaults are plenty full as is," Draco sniggered.

Theo smirked a little back, lips moving in a near-silent phrase.

"What?"

"I'm not repeating it," he chuckled, drawing Draco back up for another lazy snog.

"Yes, you most certainly are," the blond protested, pushing himself up. "Tell me."

"Aren't _you_ demanding."

"Yes. I have a right to be."

"Sure," Theo replied, rolling his eyes before his smirk faded back a little, turning into something a little more demure. "You have no idea how much I enjoy this. Moments like this."

"Moments like _what_?" Draco asked, trying for blithe and slightly sarcastic; it fell a little by the wayside, trumped by uncertainty.

"You and me. Nothing else."

"There's Astoria."

"I can share."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Better half the possible moments than none at all."

"What happened to my selfish best friend?"

Theo smirked. "I have priorities, mate."

"Sure, you do. And apparently they're all me."

"Well," he replied, shrugging before hooking both arms around Draco and rolling him over onto his back. "I can't deny that."

Draco just laughed, and Theo leaned in to make the most of that moment.


	24. Selcouth

  
_selcouth_  
(adj.) unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvellous

The first time the three of them lay tangled in the sheets together - not in some combination of them, but _them_ ; Draco, Theo, and Astoria, each sprawled across the bed, limbs tangled and the bed taken up in a fascinating way - Astoria didn't think that she'd find herself quite as comfortable as she did. After all, she knew full well that Draco and Theo made a habit of sleeping together more often than they went on any sort of date, while the dates were typically reserved for her. Draco was almost a gentleman that way, rarely pressuring her if she didn't want to, though one or two of their evenings had gone that way. They'd been fun, as had the dates between the three of them that started out perhaps a little awkward, with none of them really sure what they wanted to do, if they wanted to reach out and offer the other two their hand, or if they just wanted to offer one.

(One wasn't fair, they learned quickly; if you were going to hold someone's hand, you were going to hold two someones' hand, and that was all there was to that.)

But nothing really prepared her for the amount of awkward fumbling involved in getting three people onto a bed. Nor did anything prepare her for the way that both of them seemed to open up, causing her to open up in turn. It was one thing to slightly ignore Theo because he was mooning over Draco and therefore, ignoring her; it was another thing entirely when even his attention slid entirely to her for a period of time to make sure she was absolutely enjoying herself. And enjoy herself, she did.

Tori lay there comfortably on one side of the bed, sheets wrapped around her body modestly, her hair splayed out all around her as she gazed at the unremarkable ceiling, feeling an odd sense of contentment. One of Draco's arms was around her shoulders, pulling her close, so her head rested against his shoulder. His other arm, she knew without even looking over, was draped around Theo's shoulders. It was only fitting that Draco was in the middle, when he so loved the attention and the warmth of two people pressed up against him. And Theo was definitely pressed up against him; Theo appeared to turn into some kind of squid when he was asleep, and she was pretty sure that one of the feet she felt hooked around her ankle was his, though how he managed that feat was beyond her.

The whole thing was just odd, in a way. A good way, she supposed as she idly glanced over, catching a glimpse of Draco as he slept, lips slightly parted and white-blond hair a mess; he was turned slightly towards her, giving her a good look at his quiet expression. He seemed so content, as did Theo. And she- Well, she felt oddly content as well, contrary to her initial opinions. Tori had been so sure that it was all a ploy for Draco to be able to cheat on her without fear of repercussion, but it hadn't turned out that way. His affections towards her had never once waned, and his time with her was never spent mooning over someone else. When he was hers, he was absolutely hers.

She had never taken Draco Malfoy for such a sweet, affectionate individual back in school, and yet, there it was. He was charming - too charming, at times - but funny and adoring (but not overbearing), and he had a wonderful smile. And though she had never thought herself the jealous type, there was the odd pang of concern that this wouldn't go well for them, that it would somehow drive them apart instead of together.

But there they were, tangled up together, and she had never felt more content. Jealousy had no place in that bed, a fact that she was unduly grateful for, and would likely never mention. The entire situation was strange and oddly beautiful, if she felt like getting poetic.

(She didn't, though, and mostly thought it an excellent end to a pretty good night out. Anything else seemed just excessive and unnecessary.)

In some ways, Tori honestly looked forward to the next one, now that that first hurdle had been jumped. She was feeling considerably better about this arrangement, knowing as she did that things weren't going to go horrible awry over the next month for whatever reason. They were all very solid. Surprisingly solid, all things considered. She wouldn't have expected to fit in so well with the pair of them, both of them older than her by two years, separated by all sorts of experiences, particularly of the war; they had more in common than she could hope to have, but she was a sympathetic ear when needed, and she thought that might help.

Theo stirred a little on Draco's other side, one hand sliding across the blond's middle to lightly graze against Tori's skin. It sent a shiver down her spine, and she hazarded a glance back over at him, eyes curious. Theo was partly awake now, she realised as her eyes met half-lidded, bleary brown, and her cheeks flushed slightly as Theo shot her a little smile, one of ease and what could almost be read as tenderness. It seemed odd and out of place on his face, which was so typically contorted into an expression of mild displeasure, even around Draco, who seemed to exasperate him as often as he did everyone else. Funny, how not even love could soften that.

"Morning," he mouthed to her lazily, with just a hint of apprehension.

"Morning," she mouthed back, a soft smile tugging at her mouth as well. Between them, Draco just went on sleeping, snoring quietly every now and then just to let them know he existed.

"He's going to sleep forever, you know," Theo murmured quietly after one soft inhale-exhale combo that ended in Draco snuggling back into his pillow a little more.

"I know. He does that."

Theo smirked, obviously pleased that someone else knew his plight when it came to the blond. Astoria smirked as well, feeling a sort of bond growing between the pair of them, even if just in a brief sort of way. It was something, and that was more than good enough for her.

"How do you feel about coffee?"

"It's fine," she replied softly, shifting a little so she could speak to him without disturbing Draco too much. Between them, the blond just went on snoring, oblivious to what was going on outside his little dreamworld. "I'd prefer eggs."

"I can do eggs. You think we should make him some?"

Tori just grinned, the expression a little wicked. "No. He can ask for his own eggs when he wakes up."

The response got a little grin out of Theo in response, and he chuckled under his breath, admiring Draco for a moment. "Yeah, you're right. He can suffer. Come on," he invited her, nodding back over his shoulder a little. He got movement in response, careful shifts as Tori removed herself from Draco's embrace and replaced herself with a pillow for him to hug. Though she was sure that it didn't matter much now that they'd all been intimate, she still took care to hide her bits as she rolled out of the massive bed. He followed suit, and they both managed to find something to wear to remain at least a little bit modest: Theo, a pair of pyjama pants; Tori, a discarded t-shirt. It was comfortable. _They_ were comfortable, curiously enough. And they continued to be comfortable, as they relocated themselves to the kitchen, leaving Draco to sleep the rest of the morning away.


	25. Eesome

  
_eesome_  
(adj.) pleasing to the eye

They had no idea that he was awake, and he rather liked it that way. It made the morning pleasant for him, like he got the chance to just sort of idly lie back and listen to whatever his lovers decided to say about him when they thought he was out like a light. They'd done it a few times now, assuming he was going to sleep for ages. And he was more than all right with that, given that it meant he could remain relaxed and boneless. And perhaps because Theo and Tori had never _really_ gotten along, they never did much more than talk.

But there was definitely a lot of talk.

Draco had probably heard every variant of gossip on him, the pair of them exchanging anecdotes about times they'd had with the blond over the years. More from Theo, with Astoria laughing about the ridiculous stories of two best friends getting into all sorts of mischief. Thankfully, neither of them ever noticed the little smiles curving Draco's mouth at the reminders. Neither did they notice when he shifted slightly, cuddling up a little more with the pair. It was always put off as moving around in his sleep, something Draco was rather known for anyway.

Then there were the moments when one or both padded away briefly, giving Draco an actual opportunity to crack his eyes open, to stretch a little, albeit silently, and to watch the pair of them interact from his spot on the bed. And it was those moments even more than the sex itself, or the date nights out, that he realised that this was most definitely what he wanted. Two of his favourite people, one from years ago and one new, both tangled together by the threads that connected them to Draco. He loved it, he really did. To the point that he wondered if he didn't somehow love them. If it wasn't too soon to think so, at least.

Either way, he was definitely keeping it to himself until further notice, simply lying back and enjoying the sight of them interacting, of them laughing and sharing stories. It was a nice thing to wake up to in the morning.


	26. Mistpouffer

  
_mistpouffer_  
(n.) a mysterious sound heard over the ocean in quiet, foggy weather

The joy of living near the sea was that Theo got to hear all manner of strange things in the middle of night. They weren't always that weird when he thought about them properly, but a lot of the time, they still held a sort of mysterious intrigue. As long as his eyes were closed.

It was one of his few nights alone, but he didn't feel lonely. He felt content as he stood out there on the balcony, chin rested in his hands as he stared out at the fog creeping across the ocean. It wasn't even that often that he went back to the manor, but he wasn't even as bothered by the whole place as he normally was. Maybe because he'd had Draco back there just a few days back, and the blond's presence seemed to seep into the cracks in the mortar and the chill in the air, somehow making it all just a little bit more palatable.

He listened to all manner of sounds: the hoot of an owl nearby, the horns of a lighthouse, of some boat nearing shore, the distorted cry of wild ocean creatures. It was all so relaxing, and as he closed his eyes and felt the crisp air against his skin, Theo imagined the sounds distorting into one another: a sort of haunting melody that made no logical sense. The hoot of a boat, the cries of an owl. Better yet, the sounds Draco made when they were together, mingling with those of Astoria. Another moment, and they melded with the pure sounds of the sea on that beautiful night, lending themselves to some mysterious tone that seemed almost to lull him to sleep.

All of this was working for him. He honestly hadn't thought that it would, but so far, he had no complaints. It was almost shocking: he was usually so good about having complaints.

But on that quiet, foggy evening, he found that he had nothing to complain about for perhaps the first time in his life.


	27. Sehnsucht

  
_sehnsucht_  
(n.) "the inconsolable longing in the human heart for what we know not what"; a yearning for a far, familiar, non-earthly land one can identify as one's home

Draco traced his fingertips along Astoria's forearm, eyes dropped thoughtfully down to the table. It had been a few weeks now, to the point that both of them had almost lost track of exactly how long it had been since they got together. A few months; not enough to warrant an anniversary, but too much to warrant playing casual about the whole thing. They were far from casual now, that much was obvious even before one took Theo into consideration. It had occurred to him about a week ago that to everyone else in the world, things must have looked a little bit strange.

He could work with a little bit strange, though.

"Have you ever-"

Astoria glanced up to him, blinking. Her curiosity was obvious even without her saying anything. It wasn't every day that Draco was in such an obviously thoughtful mood.

"Have you ever wondered about what it means to really be 'home'?"

A frown twitched to her brow, and she flipped her hand over, letting his fingers trace down the inner part of her forearm before taking her hand, lacing their fingers together casually. It seemed to her like perhaps he needed some kind of reassurance. And in all honesty, Draco didn't know what he needed right that moment, so reassurance would have to do.

"I can't say I have," she answered simply and honestly. He nodded a little, letting out a soft exhale. Not a sigh, not quite. Just an exhale: the simple expulsion of breath in a gentle, if somewhat forceful manner.

"It's sort of weird, I suppose. It's hardly the average sort of thought," Draco admitted, tipping his head to one side a little in concession. Tori's mouth merely curved into a little smile, one that embodied amusement, sympathy, and mild scepticism all at once. Part of why he liked her, he thought, was because she could manage all of that in one little look that seemed to see through him completely.

"Well?" She prompted. "If it's a thought at all, then have at it."

It was invitation enough. Draco's eyebrows twitched upwards, and he went on.

"It occurred to me that Malfoy Manor is my home, in a way. And yet, it was so easily taken away from me."

She knew what he meant: the war, of course. Voldemort's occupation and subsequent desecration of his childhood home. Hardly the sort of thing you could bounce back from.

"It's true, we refinished things. There's no sign of anything. You'd never even guess that he'd been there. But every time I walk into the dining room, I just _know_. I remember it all far too well. And just like that-" He snapped his fingers, the sound a delicate crack in the soft din of murmured conversation surrounding them in the restaurant. "-the feeling of being at home is gone. I don't know how to get it back."

"Maybe it's not the building at all," Tori suggested.

"So what is it?"

"The people? Your family, your friends - those of us who stuck by you."

"Can you really consider yourself amongst that number?" Draco asked, smirking a little, his tone light and teasing. He got a roll of her eyes for his trouble, and considered himself lucky that he didn't get more than that. It was obvious that she hadn't developed her interest in him entirely after the war; they both knew it. There had been some idle spark, waiting to be kindled before that, one that kept her on his side the whole way through.

"Are you really going to argue with me?"

"Just a little."

At least he was honest.

Tori just rolled her eyes casually skyward, her thumb stroking against Draco's skin where their hands were joined, and began to think about it a little harder. "Well, that's what I think it is. I wouldn't be truly at home without Daphne, not even if I had the whole house to myself."

"The idea has merit," Draco replied simply. He wasn't sure what about it didn't quite fit with him, but it definitely had merit. It was a largely unformed idea, one brought to light perhaps too early to have much more than a half-baked crust to it; it remained still too doughy to do anything with it.

And so, Tori just stroked her thumb against Draco's skin some more, offering him a small smile.

"You'll figure it out, Draco. Sooner or later. We're young yet."


	28. Aisling

  
_aisling_  
(n.) a vision or a dream; an Irish poetic genre where Ireland appears to the poet in the form of a beautiful woman

"And she came to me, then - an absolute vision in white. All blonde hair and soft skin and-"

"Wait, you mean to say you were actually dreaming of a woman?" Draco cut in, eyebrows lifted sceptically at Theo. He flicked a smirk over at Astoria where she sat adjacent to them both, looking thoroughly amused.

Theo had been caught mid-sentence and mid-gesture, his hands fluttering through the air appreciatively as he described a dream he had the night before. Theoretically, at least.

"Would you shut up and let me talk?" Theo replied, glaring at his best friend and boyfriend. The other two shared another amused smile, though Tori's was considerably more demure and subtle than Draco's shit-eating grin. But they did indeed shut up. "The pair of you, honestly. You completely missed the point. I was talking about Tori."

With an intense roll of his eyes, Theo slumped back against his chair, shaking his head at the disappointing way they interrupted. Draco just slid his gaze to Tori for a moment, watching the way she began to subtly preen at the compliment. It was kept as much under wraps as her amusement had been. She was trying to not be obvious about it, but the way the apples of her cheeks blossomed with pleased colour and her mouth twitched, trying not to let her smile split too wide, was obvious to the boys who had been spending the better part of a few months with her, even if it wasn't obvious to anyone else.

Even as a pleased smile curved Draco's mouth, he continued to poke the metaphorical stick in the cage. "You're saying Tori is the personification of a country."

"Well, that's definitely how it seemed. And it was my dream - I know what was what, Malfoy."

"I have to say, I'm a little disappointed I never made it into your dream," Draco drawled, leaning in across the table a little bit.

Theo just pursed his mouth at Draco, rolling his eyes again before reaching out to take one of Tori's hands in his. His biggest fear when they got started with all this had definitely been that he and Tori would never click the same way they both did with Draco, but they had. Maybe not to the same extent - Draco would always have some large part of Theo's heart - but he was no longer jealous of Tori. He doubted they'd ever be close enough to warrant marriage or anything like that, but they were comfortable with one another.

"Maybe it's because you already exist enough in reality," Tori pointed out, reaching out to snag Draco's hand, tangling their fingers together. "And another one of you might be difficult to deal with."

"That's putting it lightly," Theo agreed, sniggering. He got a look from Tori at that, but it was tempered with ever-present amusement.

"Excuse you both. I'm amazing, and it'd be fantastic to have more than one of me," Draco protested.

"Yeah, maybe until you got into an argument with yourself, or you started blowing up each other's egos. Then you'd be bloody well insufferable," Theo grinned.

"Should I leave the pair of you to your bonding?" Draco asked, his mouth set in a pout. He'd deny that it was one, but it was definitely one: he pouted more often than he cared to admit.

"No, don't leave us," Tori told him, smiling warmly as she leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder as best she could across the table. Draco just sighed heavily.

"If I _must_."

"You definitely must," she agreed, glancing to Theo to prompt him with a look.

"What she said. You _must_."


	29. Novaturient

  
_novaturient_  
(adj.) desiring or seeking powerful change in one's life, behaviour, or situation

"You know as well as I do, Draco," Theo started, shifting from where he lay on the couch to sit up a little more, setting his book down in his lap so he could do so, "That things aren't going to stay like this forever, right?"

Draco, where he was sitting on the same couch, partly pinned by the way Theo had his legs tossed across his lap, merely slid a glance over to his best friend, wary and uncertain. His book remained up by his face where he was holding it, and the flicker of slight terror in his eyes almost suggested that he didn't want to think about that; he just wanted to keep reading. But Theo's eyes were boring into him, barely softened by the concern that seemed evident in the frown the other wizard wore.

"I'm not sure where that came from," the blond replied slowly, frowning right back. "But is now really the time?"

"What, you have another time you'd prefer? Maybe I can come back tomorrow, schedule a meeting with your house-elf?"

"Theo-"

Theo sat up the rest of the way, setting his book aside before leaning in and grabbing Draco's. The page was held by a bookmark delicately slid into place, and then it was removed from the conversation as well. As something of a reassurance, Theo then snagged one of Draco's now-empty hands, tangling their fingers together.

"Your mother's going to prompt you to get married soon. All right? We both know it. Tori knows it. Everyone knows it. And the joy of it is that no one's going to think that there's any kind of problem with that," the brunet went on, thumb stroking along Draco's skin. "Because no one knows that I've got any kind of involvement."

"I don't see how that's going to change things," Draco sniffed, pursing his mouth.

"That's because you're delusional and refuse to look at this with open eyes."

"Excuse y-"

"Draco. You know I'm right." Theo stated dryly, staring him down. The blond opened his mouth to respond and promptly closed it again, sinking back against the couch unhappily.

"What am I supposed to do about that?"

"You haven't even thought about it, have you?"

"No. I thought we just went over this - I'm trying to ignore that it's a problem," Draco replied, mouth curving into something of a defensive sneer. Theo just rolled his eyes in response, shaking his head. His hand never left Draco's, squeezing gently in direct juxtaposition to the curt way he was dealing with the topic.

After all, Theo really did adore Draco, more than he ever said. He was never really sure it was obvious, but he always felt as though it was. Painfully so. Sometimes he caught Tori looking at him, regarding him silently in a sort of curious way that suggested she was still thinking deeply over exactly what she'd gotten herself into. They were better than they'd been before, but that didn't mean there wasn't still a flicker of jealousy.

"Do you want things to change?" Theo finally asked, breaking the silence that had simmered between them for a moment or two.

The answer came quickly and without hesitation: "No."

"All right," Theo replied softly, and with no small amount of relief underpinning his tone. He couldn't lie and say he wasn't relieved, not to himself, and not out loud.

He glanced up again to notice Draco all but staring at him, frowning still. "What?"

"Nothing," Draco started, then amended immediately: "No, not nothing. You don't seem concerned. Why?"

Theo scoffed. "Maybe I just hide it better than you do."

"Well, that much was a given, Nott. You've always hidden things better than I did. You're more clever too."

"Thank you for that wonderful ego boost, Draco. I appreciate that," Theo smirked, reaching over with his free hand to pat Draco's cheek lightly.

Draco just swatted his hand away, rolling his eyes a little. In response, Theo just shifted again, twisting around so he could lean against his best friend's side, their hands still comfortably clasped.

"When you ask her to marry you, just give me some token too. It doesn't have to be at the same time. It doesn't even have to be a ring," he said softly, head resting against Draco's shoulder, his knees pulled up to his chest.

"You want me to propose to you too?"

"Well, unless you'd prefer I end up your piece on the side," Theo replied, glancing up, one eyebrow arched. "But I recall you saying not moments ago that you liked how things were. Which means Tori and I are equal, aren't we?"

"Of course you are," Draco pouted.

"And does she think so?"

"I'm fairly certain she thinks so."

"Then propose to me too," Theo finally stated, rolling his eyes as though that was the most obvious thing in the world.

For a long moment, Draco merely stared at him, studying his expression to make sure that he was completely serious. Of course, it made sense: what better way was there to make sure both of them were equals than to propose to them both? Tori would be the one he married, naturally, but Theo would be just as included in the whole matter. He'd be the best man at the inevitable wedding, and no one would ever know the difference. If they all hung out, then so be it: they were still close, regardless of who was married to whom. There would be no scandal coming of it, not unless someone could actually prove anything.

And honestly, good luck with that. Malfoys were very good at avoiding scandal, even with the war. No amount of falling from grace had lessened Lucius Malfoy's ability to give people a proper tongue-lashing, or his ability to know exactly where to donate a great sum of money in order to better the family name. It was slow-going, but they were managing all right.

"All right," Draco finally agreed, his frown softening into something else, into a quiet little smile. Theo grinned at him, sitting up and twisting a bit so he could catch Draco's mouth with his own, sealing the decision with a chaste kiss.


	30. Peripeteia

  
_peripeteia_  
(n.) a sudden or unexpected reversal of circumstances; the point of no return

There was quite a lot of pressure on Draco to do this right. He supposed that, depending on how it was done, he may or may not get flack from some trashy columnist from the _Daily Prophet_ , and he really didn't need that. They were on him often enough as it was. The latest headline was his favourite: 'Greengrass Girl Being Lured to the Dark Side!'

Honestly, it was starting to grate. His thoughts were simple: attack him all you liked, but stay away from his loved ones. And Astoria definitely qualified at this point. It was half a wonder he hadn't sent a scathing letter to the paper yet, even though he didn't dare try it: the sort of response they might publish afterwards wouldn't be worth it, not when he was trying to keep a low profile. It was bad enough he had a hard time buying things sometimes.

Which was only part of the reason why he'd gotten his grandmother's ring for when he decided to propose. Another part was that it simply seemed more fitting - in a way, Tori was sort of marrying into the Black clan as well as the Malfoy family. The whole thing was basically scripted, with very little left to surprise with, except for the fact that Tori honestly had no idea. She knew that she was going to have a rather intimate tea over at the Manor, but as to why? Well, it was a date, obviously.

The surprise written clear across her features when he finally sank down to one knee and caught her hand between his own. His question had come effortlessly and with a hopeful smile, and had been met with an eager _yes_ before she flung her arms around his neck for a proper hug. Never mind that part of that was due to the fact that Narcissa was just around the corner, and she knew full well that she needed to present her glee in the right way.

As soon as they were alone, things grew more intimate and real.

"You got pressured into this, didn't you?"

Draco had the decency to look a little apologetic as he looked down at their clasped hands, the ring now glittering on her finger; he nodded, unable to think of anything to say. Tori merely sighed softly, stroking her thumb against his skin.

"You're lucky I don't mind marrying you," she told him softly. They were lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully, both fully clothed and atop the bedding, with little intention of changing that. It was just a peaceful sort of moment for now, one that begged for quietude and gentle conversation.

"You had to know it'd come up eventually."

"I did. Does Theo?"

"He does. Believe it or not, I've got something for him too."

Tori rolled over, leaning up on her elbow to look at him properly, eyebrows arched. "What?"

Draco sat up slightly, shrugging one shoulder as he explained slowly and carefully: "All of this was inevitable. But I like what we all have, and I think you do too. Am I wrong?"

He waited for the proper amount of time - about ten seconds - and when she didn't change her expression or say anything, he went on again.

"Which means that if I'm marrying one of you, I ought to marry both. That's not happening any time soon, for a wide variety of reasons, but he knows that. We all knew that I was going to marry you, make things proper and official with you, and…figure out the rest when we got the chance. So we discussed it.

"All he wants is a token, something that shows that yes, he means just the same as you do to me." His eyebrows arched a little, and he waited another few moments to see if Tori had anything to add. She didn't. "Nothing's going to change."

She was quiet again, looking at him as though seeing him for the first time, studying him as though he was a fascinating thing.

"I think it will change," she finally said, her mouth twitching a little. "It has to. We're not going to be teenagers forever."

"But that doesn't mean that the nature of our relationship has to change."

"Maybe not by the strictest definition of the word, but it'll still change. It won't be the same devil-may-care sort of fling that we're having now, not when I eventually pop out an heir."

"Who's to say Theo can't help raise an heir?"

"Have you met him? I don't think he'd know what to do with a baby. Or a toddler. Or a teenager," Tori laughed, perhaps a bit wryly.

"Well-"

"Draco," she softly interrupted, reaching out with her free hand to touch his cheek. "Change isn't a bad thing."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. We'll change with it. We'll figure it out as we go. I was rather hoping we'd have a little more time before we had to do so, but if your mother's expecting something, it's not like we can disappoint her."

Draco sighed softly, eyebrows tinged with concern, and leaned into her hand a little more.

"We'll be all right," Tori told him, voice barely lifting above a whisper.

"I believe you," he told her in return, leaning up to catch her mouth for a soft kiss.


	31. Aischrolatry

  
_aischrolatry_  
(n.) the love or worship of smut

That first night, post-engagement, was one that Draco didn't think he'd forget any time either in the near or distant future. The three of them, tangled up together, their bodies moving and writhing against one another, slipping with desperate purpose. Hands clung to skin and sheets alike, the only sounds to be heard were those of impassioned cries and groans, noises of pure pleasure. There was little naiveté to be seen in the way their bodies rocked together, no innocent to be spoken of even in the way Tori got involved. No longer was she as unsure or unwilling to be involved with the pair of them in their thralls; now, she practically initiated. Soft murmurs kept things from being silent for long, directing one or two others into a certain position, kept communication wide open so all three were constantly enjoying themselves.

And oh, did they ever enjoy themselves.

Draco lay awake in the aftermath, his body heavy and sated, the tangle of limbs continuing even now, with the blond unaware where he began and ended, and where his lovers did. Nor was he in any particular hurry to find out. He was running through the evening in detail, memorising it again and again to make sure he had it accessible any time he needed.

He used to read romance novels, back in school. It wasn't a habit or anything; it was just something he liked to do to keep himself vaguely amused at times. The sex scenes within those pages were often elaborate and almost laughable in their purple prose, but he'd used them as decent material when he needed a fantasy to wank to. Now, he very much doubted he'd need that again. He had the pair of them to fantasise about, drawing from what he'd just witnessed and experienced: Tori's mouth, her hands, her body against his; Theo's equally talented hands, mouth, and body. Even now, he felt stirrings, and mentally chastised himself for not being sated even after all they'd done. It was a wonder he wasn't exhausted.

He had a theory, though - an idle one, thought up in those dazed last moments as blood flow returned to the rest of his body - that maybe he was still awake because he just wanted to revel in it a little bit more. He was definitely exhausted, but only once he had successfully gotten all he could out of it after the fact did he finally begin to succumb to that, eyes falling closed in a heavy way, a soft, pleased sigh escaping the blond as he settled back against the bed and his perfect, perfect lovers.


	32. Susurrus

  
_susurrus_  
(n.) a low soft sound, as of whispering or muttering or a quiet wind; a whisper or a rustling

Tree branches scratched against the windows of Tori's bedroom as the young woman sat on her bed, legs drawn up to her chest. One hand was extended before her, and she studied the ring adorning one finger, all glittery and bright even in the dim light of her room. Her curtains were half-open, letting a streak of moonlight through to illuminate things somewhat, but there was no other light. She liked being able to sit there in the dark, thinking about all the times Draco had snuck over and laid there with her in the silence, breaking it only with soft, whispered conversation.

She doubted they'd get to have that after they were married. It wouldn't be the same; there would be a sort of legitimacy to it, instead of what they had now. There would be no sneaking around; no soft, muffled laughs as they tried to hide things from Daphne just down the hall; no hushed, sneaky conversations. It would just be them, talking quietly in _their_ bed. Not the same.

Nice in another way, of course, because they'd be married, but it still didn't have the same sort of…wickedness that she longed for. Perhaps things with Theo would keep that interesting, though. She knew they'd keep going, and knew that Draco wanted to keep things as much the same as she could. It might work; he was determined enough, and she knew he loved them both enough to make it work. It was all the other variables in the situation that she thought would pose a problem.

The branches scratched at her window again, and she closed her eyes, thinking of those hushed conversations, all those teasing remarks and sly smiles exchanged in the dead of night, when no one else was aware. They were such pleasant, private moments, settling back as some of her favourite memories, however chaste and pointless they often were.

Rain began to patter at the glass now, playing a soft tune to accompany her thoughts.

Tori sighed softly, tucking the ring away, hiding it beneath her arm as she crossed them against her knees. She still knew it was there - it was too new to forget about - but at least now she didn't have to focus on it quite so much. Maybe there was still a way they could keep things the way they were before. She hoped they could, at least.

She didn't want those hushed conversations to be a thing of the past.


	33. Obelize

  
_obelize_  
(v.) to decry as false, corrupt, or doubtful, especially of writing by marking with an obelus

_It's come to our attention here at the_ Prophet _, dear readers, that the Malfoy family may not yet be done with scandal! Just this last week, there have been at least three sightings of the Malfoy heir and his beautiful bride-to-be, Astoria Greengrass, along with a potentially unwanted third wheel!_

_But imagine this reporter's surprise when he seemed more than welcome to the pair. After a little bit of digging, it turned out that the supposed third wheel is Theodore Nott, Malfoy's best friend from school. It seems like there's a little bit more going on than just friendship, readers!_

_Under most circumstances, you'd think that a girl like Miss Greengrass would be horrified to find that her boyfriend was inviting his best friend along - that certainly doesn't bode well for their marriage, after all - but not only did she not seem to mind, she greeted him with open arms! Readers, this reporter is confused as to exactly what sort of things Mr Malfoy gets up to in his free time, and she is determined to find out! Fret not, though - I plan on giving you every drop of juicy gossip I've found so far first._

_Though there were few who knew the exact extent of Mr Nott and Mr Malfoy's relationship back at Hogwarts, there was one who stepped forward as a good source, saying that she knows for a fact that the pair had not just a friendship, but a steamy behind-the-scenes relationship they weren't telling anyone about! I wouldn't want to be in that dorm room!_

_'But Rita!' You may tell me, 'If Astoria's greeting him with open arms, then that can't possibly be what's going on!' And dear reader, I would normally be inclined to agree. If it weren't for one simple fact: hand-holding. That's right. Not just the happily engaged couple, either. To the untrained eye, it was more than subtle - almost like they were hiding something! But to my experienced eye, it was clear: during at least one point through their meal, all three of them were clinging to one another, fingers tangled together and subtle smiles exchanged._

_Trust this reporter: there is most definitely something curious going on between the three of them, and scandal is most definitely brewing._

\- Excerpt from the _Daily Prophet_ , courtesy of Rita Skeeter


	34. Vernorexia

  
_vernorexia_  
(n.) a romantic mood inspired by spring

Far and away from London and the scathing words of the _Daily Prophet_ , Theo was currently admiring the pair of them from a balcony as they padded down the warm sandy beach just outside Draco's summer home. One of them, at least. They were a very pretty couple, he thought, but it was also pretty hard to beat the fair skin and blond hair they shared. When paired with their natural elegance, it was practically a given that they'd look good together. Eventually, they'd be the talk of the town. Once the town got over themselves and shut up about Draco being a Death Eater and corrupting her.

Theo propped his chin up in one hand, lounging comfortably against the railing of the balcony, watching them with a sense that wasn't one of being apart, but one of being included from afar. It helped that they both noticed him as they returned from their brief walk, and not only waved but blew kisses. Theo just scoffed, rolling his eyes at their antics, but blew a kiss back for each as well. That was something he never thought he'd do. But then again, everything lately seemed so far out of the realm of what he thought he'd be doing at this point.

Draco and Tori joined him upstairs shortly thereafter; the house had enough convenient passageways that it didn't take long before the sound of laughter rang out from behind him. Theo turned to glance over his shoulder and found himself unable to hold back his bark of laughter as Draco carried Tori in like a sack of potatoes, his fiancee tossed casually over his shoulder.

"Look who _finally_ got up!" He greeted, tossing Tori onto the bed with enough care that it wouldn't hurt. She bounced once, her ponytail flicking around haphazardly, and laughed again as she draped herself over the mussed up bedding. Draco crossed the room, sliding his arms lazily around Theo's shoulders, and pulled him in for a firm kiss that took the brunet back to the start of this chapter of their lives, that trip to Rome they'd taken and so enjoyed. His hands fell to Draco's waist, pulling him in so their bodies were flush. The beautiful day outside their room was making him feel warm and fuzzy, more inclined to just stay in all day long with the pair of them, making the most of their holiday while they could. Sooner or later they'd return to London, and things would go back to normal. They all deserved a holiday, though.

"Hey," Tori called from the bed. "Are you planning on giving me one too?"

"If you want one," Theo replied as he finally broke the kiss, pulling away just enough to rest his forehead against Draco's.

"You'd better give her one," Draco murmured, not bothering to hide the pleased smile curving his mouth. He'd looked happier than he had in ages when they arrived, like a weight had lifted away from his shoulders the moment they set foot outside England. It was a better look for him, as far as Theo was concerned, and he was pretty sure that Tori agreed with the assessment. Draco was beautiful when he was relaxed.

Theo just sighed, the sound heavy and put on, making it sound as though they were asking him to trek up a mountain in snowshoes. But he disentangled himself from Draco's arms anyway, padding across the room to the bed, where he propped himself up on one knee, partly covering her body with his own as he greeted her the exact same way. The kiss was still firm and hungry, appreciative of them both. After barely a moment, his hand skimmed lightly up her side, and Tori hummed happily against his mouth.

When they parted, she beamed up at him, one hand draped over his shoulder to keep him near. "Much better," she told him, then glanced past to where Draco was lingering near the doorjamb. "You coming to join us?"

"I was thinking we could go drape ourselves over one another down on the beach, actually. Maybe Theo can get a tan and put both of us to shame," Draco drawled, grinning. "We could bring a bottle of wine or two down. Maybe a picnic. It's not that far."

"It's beneath the window, Draco," Theo replied, arching one brow as he rolled off of Tori.

"Exactly. But if we put the house behind us, we can pretend we're in the middle of nowhere."

Tori laughed again, pushing herself up. "I like that. There's no reason we have to stay in today."

"So it's a date," Draco decided, already crossing over to the bathroom to find them towels.

"What, I don't get a say in the matter?" Theo protested, calling the words after Draco.

From the bathroom sounded a light, airy: "No!"

When Theo simply slumped down to the bed, sighing heavily in exasperation again, Tori leaned over, pressing another light kiss to his mouth. "It's your fault for liking him in the first place, you know. You knew exactly what he was like."

"I know," Theo sighed again, covering his face with both hands. "I'm a masochist. You don't have to remind me."

Again, Tori just laughed as she pushed herself off the bed to help Draco retrieve everything they'd need.


	35. Meraki

  
_meraki_  
(n.) the soul, creativity, or love put into something; the essence of yourself that is put into your work

Their holiday continued to go without a hitch. They were, for all intents and purposes, completely beyond the reach of most methods of communication, and what little they did receive, they ignored. It could wait; everyone knew that they'd be back soon enough, and the holiday was supposed to be relaxing. A getaway. A proper one, much deserved after the war.

There was a light drizzle outside that had driven them in for the afternoon, one marked with a makeshift tea set up in a parlour that opened up to the waterfront. It was silent save the gentle sound of rain against the roof, the deck, and the distant ocean; none of them seemed inclined to interrupt it as they sipped their tea and nibbled on small sandwiches. The trio was curled up comfortably on one couch, their limbs tangled, each sucking up the warmth from the others. As they often found themselves, Draco was in the middle, and he never had any problem with that. It was all attention from his two favourite people, and he couldn't complain about that.

Finally, Tori dared to break the silence, her voice wavering with mild excitement, "I was thinking we could hand-make some of our wedding decorations."

Both young men glanced towards her, eyebrows raised, then back to each other, exchanging a little look of mild uncertainty.

"How?" Draco finally dared ask, albeit warily. Theo didn't seem willing to ask at all.

"Centrepieces. Things for the ends of aisles. That sort of thing," she replied, shrugging one shoulder as she leaned in to snag another little sandwich for herself. "They can't be that hard. And besides, someone has to do it."

"'Someone' could just as easily be someone we pay to do it," Draco pointed out, frowning slightly.

"Obviously. But this way, there's something of us in it. It's not just a heap of flowers set up for our enjoyment, and then taken down and thrown away," Tori retorted. There was a tone of finality in her tone, as though if they didn't agree, she'd just do it on her own.

That said, Draco had paid attention growing up, and noted that the happier his mother was, the better off his father seemed to be. It was a simple enough notion: don't piss off the women in your life.

"All right," he finally agreed, sighing quietly. "What do you want us to do?"

"Us?" Theo asked, elbowing Draco in the ribs. The blond winced, then swatted at his best friend unhappily.

"Yes, _us_."

"Fine. Us."

Tori looked pleased. Mission accomplished.


	36. Noosphere

  
_noosphere_  
(n.) the sum of human thought, knowledge, and culture

They'd arrived back home in the wee hours of the evening despite Theo protesting that they'd be better off leaving in the morning, so they had the rest of the day; Draco and Astoria merely replied that they both got sleepy from the Portkey, and that it'd be easier not to take a nap mid-day. Not like either of them had anything to do anyway, but it was really just the point of the thing.

So they arrived back in England, settling in at Theo's place for the night before going their separate ways after breakfast. It was one of those very English days, with things more calm and quiet and slightly grey, but it made for a perfect day to simply laze around on their own. After all, no one could spend _all_ their time with other people; not these three people, at least. They each loved the company the others provided, for the most part, but getting off on their own was definitely a necessary component of the relationship.

Theo sat at the empty expanse of the dining room table, leaning back in his chair comfortably as he sorted through the papers that had been brought in while he was gone. He figured that he may as well get up to date, even though there was usually so little going on that mattered to him. The papers had really just proven his point until, by chance, he flicked past Rita Skeeter's latest column and one name in particular caught his eye.

"Oh, fuck me."

Meanwhile, a fair distance away, in a similar manor house located in Wiltshire, Draco was curled up in an overstuffed chair, intending to do roughly the same thing. For a man in his position - one that wasn't quite rock bottom, but also wasn't exactly looked up to by many - he thought that it was prudent to invest a little time in making sure he knew what was going on. Not least of all because of the things people wrote about him when they got half the chance. Not that he made much of a habit of defending himself, and especially not publicly - it simply wasn't worth it - but he did like to know, if nothing else.

The articles almost seemed to blend together as he flicked through the pages, folding the paper down so that it was a slightly more manageable size. There was nothing that really leapt out at him as something he needed to read, but he got through a few things. Quidditch proved interesting, though only because Marcus Flint had done something phenomenal in his last game, and deserved his fifteen minutes. Draco chuckled faintly, murmuring a light congratulations under his breath before hesitantly opening up the gossip sheets, hoping that the rumours were all meaningless and droll.

They weren't, sadly, and he felt his heart drop to the floor. They'd been so careful. But apparently not careful enough.

Somewhere else in the country, off on a day trip to Diagon Alley with her older sister, was Astoria, the last of the three to hear. She had made the unfortunate mistake of assuming that there was nothing to be heard while they were gone, making the most of each other's company, and it was only as they window-shopped that she realised something was amiss. People were murmuring about her behind her back.

"Is that her?"

"I think so. The poor girl - you don't think she's been Cursed into it, do you?"

"Oh goodness, I hope not, but you never know with Death Eaters."

"Former Death Eaters, or so they claim." A scoff from that voice.

Astoria whipped around, eyes narrowed and mouth pinched. "Excuse me," she interrupted them loudly, "Was there something you wanted to say?"

Daphne's expression seemed to suggest that a public place wasn't exactly the right location for this sort of discussion. But her little sister had grown more brash in recent times, and more willing to publicly have it out with strangers over her choice of boyfriend.

"I'll have you know that your prejudices against them really only perpetuate the problems that led us to the war in the first place. I certainly hope that wasn't your intent - a further witch hunt against innocent people? More death? It would be very ill-timed, I think, considering the last war only just ended, and we've only just finished mourning the last losses," Tori punctuated unhappily, her words crisp and curt.

The two women who'd been gossiping as they passed nervously glanced between themselves, murmuring hasty apologies before scurrying on. Tori's narrowed eyes followed them until they finally rounded a corner, and then they slid to her sister.

"What did I miss?"

"Tori," Daphne started, her tone a weary sigh. "Draco was mentioned again in the _Prophet_."

"And what did they say?"

"They brought up your relationship with him. And whatever you've got going on with Nott."

"Theo was-"

"So he's Theo now?" Daphne asked with no small amount of scepticism, eyebrows arching.

Tori's cheeks coloured slightly, and she drew her mouth into a pursed line.

"So it's true, then?"

"I don't know. I haven't read it. But if it's that Rita Skeeter woman again, I'm going to say no. It's not."

Daphne's eyebrows merely remained arched, but she seemed willing to trust her sister for now. Or else, she simply decided that here was not the place or time to get into it. That could wait until they were in the safety and comfort of their own home.

Besides, she had a feeling Tori would want to be able to Firecall her fiancé before long.


	37. Eternitarian

  
_eternitarian_  
(n.) one who believes in the eternity of the soul

"I think we should break things off."

Tori and Draco stared at Theo where he had finally stopped pacing back and forth nervously. Both sets of eyes were slightly wide as they gaped at their boyfriend. Draco was the first to speak:

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Draco," Theo replied, voice tight and crisp. "We should break things off. You've had enough of being in the papers, and I'm not going to have you in that spotlight again just because of me. Not with the way people react to things."

"So we don't get any say in the matter?" Tori weighed in, her voice just as crisp, proving that though she was younger, she was more than their equal in a lot of ways. It was obvious that she wasn't happy, though why was anyone's guess. Perhaps she'd come around to being just as fond of Theo's presence as Draco was, or perhaps it was just because she didn't want to see her fiancé unhappy.

"Wh-" Theo started, eyes snapping to her. His mouth pinched into a line. "No. You don't."

Tori started to rise up from the couch where she sat pressed loosely against Draco's side, but Draco holds up one hand to get her to settle back down. With a soft huff, and a roll of her eyes, she leaned back again, letting the pair of them deal with one another like they had for years.

"I don't know if you've noticed, Theo, but we've gotten this far by making decisions for ourselves. Changing that isn't going to help matters any," Draco replied, scooting forward to perch on the edge of the couch, hands folded between his spread knees. "Especially since I've never stood for you making my decisions before now."

Theo stepped forward, eyes narrowed. "Well, maybe I'm trying to make this one for you because you're too stupid to s-"

" _Boys_ ," Tori snapped from her reclined position, her eyes glinting with annoyance. "Draco, do me a favour and go take a walk. You're far too tense to get anything actually discussed."

Draco pursed his mouth, but did so, pushing himself up from the couch to unhappily vacate the room. Tori pointed tersely to the empty spot, eyebrows lifting at Theo until he crossed over and carefully deposited himself in the spot Draco had left.

"You know he loves you, correct?" Tori finally stated after a moment of silently staring at him.

Theo just nodded slowly, frowning a little at her, as though that should have been a given. "Of course."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"B-"

"Think about that very carefully, Theodore. I want you to do that for me," she interrupted and instructed. Theo stopped, inhaling; one hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and he exhaled slowly.

"Because I don't want to see him as miserable as when his family was getting harassed by the _Prophet_. He's only just gotten over it, and I don't want to be the cause of him falling back into that."

Tori's stare was understanding and somewhat affectionate, but she shook her head like she thought he was an idiot. And then she stated as much: "You are such an idiot. Of course, I knew that when you pined after him for years without saying a word." Theo's mouth pinched again, but Tori went on, reaching up to pull back blonde waves into a loose ponytail, "He's happy again because you're here."

Theo blinked.

"Seriously. I don't think it has as much to do with me as it does with you," she pointed out. "Obviously there's some part of it that's me, but I'm not going to delude myself and claim that it's the bigger part. The best I can hope for is equal share of his affections." Her hands fell back to her lap, ponytail completed, and she twisted to face him a little more.

"You're kidding."

"Weren't you the one to pick him up when he was lowest, only to cart him off to Italy?"

"He told you about that?"

"Of course he did. We're engaged. We do talk, you know," Tori replied, rolling her eyes a little.

Theo's cheeks flushed with a faint touch of colour, one that was almost invisible beneath his tanned skin. "Yeah, well-"

"Well?"

"Well, I- I don't want that to change."

"It's not going to. He relies on both of us to be there when things like this happen in the first place. It's harder when you're alone. You should already know that," she told him, stating the words plainly, as though he should have already known that.

Theo was quiet for a very long moment, until he finally sighed, leaning against the couch. Tori reached forward, gently hooking her fingers around his shoulder to pull him close, letting him rest his head against her shoulder. Her fingers promptly threaded through his hair soothingly.

"Just tell him it was a knee-jerk reaction. He might be mad for a bit, but he'll forgive you. As long as you're there in his bed tonight," Tori said softly. "And we'll just make sure to be a little more careful if you don't want to end up in the gossip columns."

He nodded a little, against her shoulder, and let his eyes slide up to the door. It was cracked a little, and through it, he could tell that Draco hadn't really vacated at all. He was just hanging out outside the door, listening in. There didn't seem to be any tension in the line of his body - or what Theo could see, at least - and the brunet found a quiet, private smile curving his mouth at the innate knowledge that he would probably be forgiven for his trespasses after all.


	38. Gezellig

  
_gezellig_  
(adj.) cozy, nice, inviting, pleasant, comfortable; connoting time spent with loved ones or togetherness after a long separation

It had probably been the better part of a month since they had seen Theo around the manor; they both knew that he was fine and safe, but it concerned the pair all the same. Both also knew that it was nothing that they'd done, but Theo simply needing his own space after the article dropped. Since then, there had been no gossip mongering, no additional articles, no perverse intrusions on the couple's privacy. Just time and silence, both of which were used to further wedding planning.

Tori and Draco weren't in much of a hurry to tie the knot, but their families were. Understandably, they supposed, since it looked like they were the only shot for grandchildren for both families. Narcissa was perhaps more subtle in her methods than Mrs Greengrass was, simply nudging things gently along when they seemed to be stagnating, or making light suggestions for what could be done next. The month that passed had been managed in that way, with nothing quite edging into stressful just yet, but there was the definite possibility at some point in the near future. Still, they were doing well enough, and Tori was keeping track of everything that needed to be finished on a large board in her bedroom.

Periodically Draco admired the thing from where he sat on her bed, eyes running over the long list of things to be done - flowers, dresses, fitting, decorations, food, everything like that - and the notes that Tori had made that coincided. It was cluttered but organised, just as he'd expected his lovely bride to be, and quite the sight to see. He sort of loved it, actually.

Honestly, the only thing that would have made it better was Theo.

Halfway through the week that would make it an official month since they'd heard from Theo, short of brief owls to let them know that he was still alive and well, there was a rap on the parlour door. They were in Malfoy Manor, finalising the sort of aesthetic that they wanted for everything, complete with sketches that Draco had done up of what the setting could look like; Tori's board was set up on one of the overstuffed chairs, and everything was generally just a mess. A lovely mess, but a mess nonetheless. Even Draco's hair was sort of a mess, but that could have been from Tori periodically coming over, sliding her fingers through it, and kissing him fiercely whenever he came up with another good idea.

The door opened all on its own after Tori called out a simple _Come in!_ instead of bothering to get it. She was in the midst of pinning things up anyway, frowning as she rearranged the potential seating for their guests. On the couch, Draco remained lounged back, periodically speaking up when he thought someone would hate their seat, or would prefer something else.

"Well, don't the pair of you look domestic," Theo remarked as he strode in, shutting the door behind him. He looked like he hadn't shaved in probably a week, his normally unruly hair thick and scruffier than usual. Tori immediately whipped around to face him, abandoning seating plans in favour of throwing herself at him for a tight hug. Draco had lowered his feet from where they were propped up on an ottoman, a wide smile splitting his face in such a way that no one could ever deny that his features lit up when he was truly happy. One hug was completed and the next was moved into, Tori stepping aside so Draco could envelope his best friend in a tight embrace. She didn't even blink when Theo took Draco's face between both his hands, pulling him in for a firm kiss.

"You came back," she simply decided as the pair of them broke the kiss, her eyes twinkling with obvious happiness. "I wasn't sure you would."

"Couldn't leave you to deal with Draco alone," Theo told her with a lopsided grin, sliding his hand into Draco's, squeezing gently. Draco rolled his eyes, but took Tori's hand as well. She, in turn, completed the circle by taking Theo's free hand, still smiling fondly at their missing third.

"I assure you, we were just fine without you," Draco drawled, mouth pursed. But there was no denying that he was probably the happiest to see Theo of the pair, and likely always would be; Tori had no problems with it, not judging by the warmth of her smile.

"I can take off again, then. If you'd prefer," Theo suggested.

"Don't you _dare_ , Theodore Nott," Tori protested, squeezing both of their hands warningly. "You're both going to stay right here, and we're going to get this stupid seating plan done. Together."

"Seating plans?" Theo balked, making a face.

"See what you've bee missing? It's absolutely enthralling," Draco replied, smirking over at the other young man. "Just you wait until we start figuring out centrepieces. You're in for the time of your life then."

Theo was quiet for a moment, just looking at the pair of them like he'd finally come home. It was a warm sort of expression, one that looked odd on Theo's normally pursed features, but Draco loved it. After a quiet moment, there was a nod: "Can't wait."

There was no doubt about it: he'd come home.


	39. Paracosm

  
_paracosm_  
(n.) a detailed, prolonged imaginary world created by a child that includes human, animal, or alien creations

For a long time, Theo's idea of precisely what sort of life he'd be living after Hogwarts was a bit…unorthodox, perhaps. But then, he'd always been a bit of a loner anyway, and taking on a relationship - a proper one, at that - with two people was shocking in and of itself. Sometimes he sat back and just thought about it, comparing what he imagined as a child to what he had now. In some ways, it was absolutely different. In others, it was surprisingly similar. He still had his mind, after all, and that was always a major part of those future worlds he imagined. He had plenty of books; he had someone to love him in that general way that children always expect. He didn't have his mother any more, but he had Draco's instead, and Narcissa had always been fond of him.

But on the other hand: he had also never really expected Draco to be involved in the first place. He'd disliked him so much that it seemed like a ridiculous notion, and Tori had never even registered on his radar. The fact that the pair of them were the individuals who were closest to him now was almost baffling.

Of course, then again, Theo had also sort of thought that he'd be surrounded by Thestrals and other strange creatures his entire life, and that had ended after his OWLs, when he no longer had to take Care of Magical Creatures.

As he watched the pair of them continue to plan their wedding, periodically asking him for his opinion, he let himself slip back into the worlds he had so intricately concocted as a child. He let himself remember that once upon a time, books were his only real friends, the characters and worlds within them as close to home as he ever had; he remembered that the sea was once open and free and literally eternal, instead of being broken up by landmasses big and small. He remembered that there were trees he could have climbed up and make himself at home in, if he weren't so afraid of heights.

He remembered how little some of those things changed, even as he got older and learned that they weren't all true. Hell, he'd probably known from the get-go that they weren't true - and that Thestrals weren't actually omens of death, but relatively gentle creatures - but that didn't stop him from thinking about it anyway. His mind had always been unorthodox, going a mile a minute almost constantly, to the point that he almost gave himself a headache with how much he thought.

Somehow, though, where he had always tried to escape away into his thoughts and his imagination as a child, especially after his mother's death, he now retreated into moments like this, where he could just sit and watch them move. It reminded him of when they were young, and Draco would declare himself Something for the day - whether it was king, or emperor, or some other ridiculous title - and the few of them would play together as children do. This just felt like they were playing at a wedding, like it wasn't real. Like at the end of the day, it would all somehow dissolve.

But instead, he knew, at the end of the day, they'd all curl up together. And in the morning, it would all be there still. In a way, it still felt just as imaginary as all those worlds he'd concoct for himself as a child - it was still there for his escapism from certain elements of reality - but at least this was a little bit more cosy a place to retreat.


	40. Ecophobia

  
_ecophobia_  
(n.) a fear or dislike of one's home

It was the strangest thing to witness, but Tori had on numerous accounts. Every time they went to Theo's generally empty manor house, their third half seemed a little more uncomfortable. Disquieted. Like there was something about their very surroundings that bothered him, that only faded away when they were finally distracting him properly. Admittedly, that was usually the reason they were over there; it was much easier to explain away having a double sleepover in a house where no one else lived. But still, it was strange to see someone look that uncomfortable.

She'd asked Draco a time or two, wondering what exactly was so wrong with the house that Theo would hate it so. He'd never responded, his mouth twitching unhappily, and she always imagined that it had something to do with the war. Everyone knew Nott Sr was a Death Eater, and one who took it very seriously, but Tori had never looked into it overly much. She'd always been a little afraid to.

Time was rolling by slowly but surely, and Narcissa had gone from gently inviting Tori to move into Malfoy Manor to giving her disappointed looks when she showed up briefly and went home. She was trying not to think of it in terms of her future mother-in-law approving pre-marital sex, but it sort of was. Still, thinking about her future mother-in-law and sex in the same sentence was enough to make her squirm uncomfortably, so she opted not to. The woman knew far too much about everything, to the point that Draco confided one evening that he was pretty sure his mother knew about him and Theo.

Thank Merlin it had never come up in conversation.

But somehow, on the day that Tori had finally agreed to move into a room - one just a door down from Draco's, that happened to share an ensuite - she found a rather pleasant surprise.

"Theo?"

The young man in question blinked at her from where he'd just come up the stairs with his trunk. After a moment, recognition crossed his features, replacing the surprise at having seen her there. The way he'd looked at her, at first, was the same look you gave someone you knew well when you saw them completely out of context.

Honestly, it was a little silly, given that Theo knew full well Tori was engaged to Draco. Unless he'd suddenly been hit on the head or something.

"What're you doing here?" Tori prompted, eyebrows arching neatly in question as she left her own room to join him at the top of the stairs.

Theo just glanced down at his trunk, then nodded to a room across the hall from her room and Draco's. "Moving in, actually."

"Really?"

"Well…yes."

Tori blinked at him, then at the closed door. "Why?'

She couldn't for the life of her imagine why he'd want to move out. Besides the fact that he'd be closer to the pair of them, and she could really never complain about that.

"Let's talk when I put this down, all right?" Theo chuckled faintly, starting towards the door. Tori nodded, following along with him until they got to the door, when she reached out and turned the knob for him. She got an appreciative little smile for her trouble, one that was returned as they crossed the threshold into Theo's new room. It looked basically the same as hers, and as Draco's. More hers, though; Draco's had personal touches, where it was clear that these two rooms were once guest rooms. The beds were perfect, the wallpaper unmarred and impersonal. But they were very nice.

Theo's trunk was set down at the end of the bed, not unlike where it would go when they were at school. Well within reach, and easily turned into additional seating as the case may have it. Comfortable. Sooner or later, he'd likely add to it, and it would start looking like a real room.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, nodding for her to join him, and she did. She'd closed the door behind them, which now provided them a modicum of privacy for the conversation. By the look on the brunet's face, it might be a serious one.

"I'm selling the manor," he explained at first, as Tori sat beside him, close enough for their knees to touch slightly. She frowned a little, but let him go on. "It's huge. Far too big for just me. Not to mention the number of memories there." Theo's brow wrinkled unhappily, his face contorting into a look of clear displeasure.

It didn't go unnoticed that this was the first time he'd really started to open up to her, and Tori hesitated a moment before replying.

"You weren't really all that fond of your father, were you?"

"That's an understatement," Theo replied wryly. "He was a piece of work."

"Draco told me your mum died when you were young," Tori hazarded gently, nudging her knee against his.

"She did. She'd been sick for as long as I could remember, and one day, she just…stopped being sick, I suppose," he told her, his voice growing small. With a sigh, he cleared his throat. But that didn't stop Tori from leaning against him, her hand moving his arm around her shoulders. "That place never felt like home. So I'm selling it."

From the more even tone of his voice and the way Theo pulled her a little closer, she had a feeling she was helping, at least a little bit. Boys were always ridiculous about keeping their feelings all bottled up. And sure, maybe Tori wasn't really that open with hers except around certain people - it wasn't just anyone who she'd pour her heart out to - but Draco and Theo just took it to a whole new level.

"And moving in here?"

"Narcissa invited me when she heard. She picked the room and everything," Theo replied, glancing around briefly before frowning and making a face, clearly uncertain. "I think she knows about Draco and I."

Tori laughed, briefly tucking her face against his shoulder. "Not the first time I've heard that," she admitted, mouth twisting as she tried to keep her smile down.

"Oh, you're kidding."

"No. Draco said the exact same thing a little while back."

"Then she definitely knows," Theo groaned, shutting his eyes as he leaned over, cheek pressing to Tori's hair. "What does _that_ mean?"

"I think the fact that you're allowed to live here, and across from him, should tell you everything, honestly," she pointed out, shrugging her free shoulder, the one that wasn't pressed against Theo's side.

"Doesn't make it any less disconcerting. Gods. Narcissa knows."

"Just be glad that she probably hasn't told Lucius."

"How do you know?"

"Because you're allowed to live here."

Theo just groaned again, wrapping his other arm around Tori. She laughed again, one hand coming up to return the hug. It would be all right, living with the pair of them. Different, but all right.


	41. Effleurage

  
_effleurage_  
(v.) "to stroke as one would a flower"  
(n.) a series of light stroking touches used in massage

"Oh my _god_."

Tori sounded none too pleased as her exclamation rang out through the room. She and Draco were, once again, in the sitting room, faced with even more wedding planning boards than the last time. A few were complete, with images of flowers, swatches of fabric, and various other details all assembled together to test out how everything would look against the other items. There was also a list of everything that needed to be done and organised written out and pinned to the board, immediately above another, which had the same items crossed out and marked with dates that they'd need to be picked up or sorted out. It was all very detailed, and very few people were surprised that the pair of them had gone to that amount of trouble. But another board, one with seating arrangements and plans, seemed haphazard and hastily thrown together. There was a list pinned in the corner of who all had RSVP'd and acknowledged that they would definitely be there, and a list of people who might show up, in a pinch. There needed to be seats for them as well. (In the corner was a list of people who weren't able to make it, all of whom would be receiving a note from the happy couple later on.)

What the problem was, right that moment, wasn't immediately obvious. It was only because Draco had been sitting there for an hour, reading and tossing out his opinions and thoughts when asked for them, that he could figure it out.

The seating plan _still_ wasn't working, that much was abundantly clear. Hardly the end of the world, but the fact that they'd been on it for days and still couldn't figure out how to reconcile certain tables was just frustrating. He didn't really blame her for being so exasperated by the whole thing, so Draco just remained silent, glancing up thoughtfully as she began to pull down all the tags from their chairs, shaking her head and tossing the lot of them into a small bowl to be dealt with later.

Finally, she returned to the couch, dropping herself onto it close enough for their legs to press against one another. They were silent for a long moment, merely sitting there pressed side to side, as Draco wrapped his arm around her shoulders, then finally leaned his head over against hers by way of reassurance.

Eventually, he spoke up: "Maybe we should just toss the idea of fixing it out the window for now."

She sighed. "We can't. It has to be done."

"Tomorrow, then."

Tori shot him a slightly withering look, though it looked perhaps a little grateful that he was pushing the topic.

"I'll bet you have far too much stress right now," Draco mused, hand coming up to brush her hair away from the back of her neck, so he could gently squeeze there. She merely hummed in response, giving no concrete remark either way. But as Draco shifted, his hands both coming up to lightly massage at her shoulders, thumbs and fingers stroking against her skin, her hum grew less noncommittal and much more pleased.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he found a particular knot in one shoulder and carefully worked it out with one thumb, a pleased sigh escaping her. Her sweater was thin enough that she could feel every movement of his hands - always so pleasant; they were one of her favourite things about him - against her back, working those kinks out. And slowly, his hands began to creep a little lower, working out the knots around her spine, and then lower yet, finding the base of her spine before one carefully snuck beneath the hem of her sweater.

Draco leaned in, pressing a light kiss against the side of her neck, chuckling against her skin. "Feeling a little more relaxed now?" He asked simply, that one hand sliding up her belly to cup one breast through her bra, gently squeezing.

"It all depends on if you're planning on following through on these teases," Tori responded in turn, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as she reached back and grabbed his other hand, drawing it around her hip to slide down to the waistband of her skirt. It had some give to it; it was rather stretchy, in fact.

"I think I can do that," he merely told her, nipping at her earlobe as his hands continued to wander in a slightly more focused fashion now.


	42. Eremophobia

  
_eremophobia_  
(n.) the deep fear of stillness, solitude, or deserted places

_The walls are crumbling in places, the ceiling and roof opening up to the sky, and the paintings are empty. Some are slashed open, their inhabitants dead in the background; some are simply empty of whomever the subject once was, leaving nothing but a vague background to offer a ground to someone's life. The sconces are empty in most cases, their candles long since snuffed or melted into nothing but a glob of wax that dried as it dripped. The floors are still smeared with blood and ichor, gore getting into the grout between stones, but the bodies are all gone. One thing's for certain, you're definitely glad for that; the bodies were the worst of it, though perhaps the level of silence that now inhabits the castle is worse. You're not sure, honestly. To figure it out requires a level of thought you're not sure you have it in you to come up with._

_You're not even running any more; there seems no point to it. You're alone, after all. Somehow, you know this. The castle is totally devoid of life, and you can practically feel it: there's no heartbeat to the place, no constant inhale-exhale of breath, no laughter, and no tears. You think even the tears were better than the nothingness you find now, because at least there was someone else there with you. Now, you wonder if you're just stranded in the middle of the Highlands, in this empty, rotting castle that seems to be coming down around you._

_You blink, and there isn't so much as the squeak of a mouse in the distance. No distant laughter of children, no sounds of classes going on. No birdsong, no creaking of the Whomping Willow, no sounds from the Forbidden Forest. Hogwarts is well and truly dead now, and all that remains is you, the empty shell of a broken little boy who made all the wrong choices for so long, and doesn't know how to set it right. This castle is like you: empty inside, and with no chance of being fixed. Not now. Not -_

Draco's eyes flew open, bleary and unfocused as they darted around the darkened ceiling. He was alone that night, Theo and Tori both in their own rooms. They weren't far, and yet the distance had sunk in heavily that night. That was the only explanation for it, he was sure; he didn't dream of things like that when their comforting warmth was pressed against him. Only when he was alone. It wasn't strange, not really, not when Draco realised that to have a nightmare like that with someone curled against him would be mortifying. But it was only due in part to embarrassment, he knew. The rest was just Theo and Tori being reassuring.

He really did love them. Sometimes - on nights like this - he couldn't even believe that he had a ring on his finger and two significant others sleeping just a door away, let alone everything else that he had. As much as everyone in school thought he was a perfect twat who'd never recover from the fall from grace the war had caused, it obviously wasn't entirely true. That, or he'd changed enough to get beyond it. Asking Theo and Tori what it was they saw in him seemed to be a strange question, though; he wouldn't dare, not unless his self-esteem really dropped through the floor.

For now, he just needed to breathe, to remind himself that he wasn't alone, and that he wasn't at Hogwarts any more. That things were going all right for a change, and that his family was doing fine. That come the morning, the sky would be blue, the grass would be green, and he'd still be surrounded by people who loved him and whom he loved in return. That was good enough.

Draco slid from his bed silently, bare feet finding the floor easily, and he crossed over to the door, snagging a housecoat to draw around himself as he crossed the hall first to Theo's room, rapping softly on the door in a pattern the pair of them coined in school, when they needed the other's attention. Within a minute, the bleary-eyed brunet was there, opening the door to his disquieted boyfriend; he didn't even need to ask, just reached out and pulled Draco close, first for a hug, then a soft, reassuring kiss.

"Another one?" Theo asked softly, careful to keep his voice from travelling in the empty corridor. The blond nodded a little, and Theo pulled him in for another lingering kiss, arms wrapped around Draco tightly. "You want to wake Tori?"

Again, Draco nodded, letting one hand slip into Theo's, their fingers tangling. It was the little things that reassured him most, like the fact that he hadn't had to say a word so far. All he did was show up, and Theo simply knew; it was impossible to find that with some people. A few silent steps, and the pair of them were at Tori's door, rapping gently there too and waiting for their girlfriend to attend to their neediness.

And sure enough, she did. Not quite as quickly as Theo had, but judging by the state of her hair, she'd been a little deeper in slumber than the brunet had been. She stifled a yawn as she opened the door and blinked at the pair of them, then sighed softly and reached out with both hands - one for each of them - and pulled them in without a word of protest. Maybe she wasn't as used to Draco's nightmares as Theo was, but she was definitely used to them, and offering a little comfort was hardly a problem. Neither of them minded, and for that, Draco was all too grateful.


	43. Temerate

  
_temerate_  
(v.) to break a bond or binding promise

"You're going to think I sound like a broken record," Theo mumbled as he helped Draco pick out a waistcoat for the rehearsal dinner that was drawing ever nearer. Next week, by his count. It was getting much too close for his comfort, especially since he'd have to be up there in the aisle with the pair of them. Daphne would too, as Tori's only bridesmaid, but there was something different about that. Especially given the rumours about their little threesome.

"Try me," Draco told him, laying flat a couple of options before frowning at the lot of them, uncertain. They all matched what Tori was going to be wearing and, in some smaller part, what Theo was going to be wearing. It was a lot of matching; Theo was, understandably, nervous.

"Are you absolutely sure that you want me up there with you?"

"Of course I am, Theo. You have every right to be up there with us."

"Your parents are going to be horrified," Theo pointed out, exhaling steadily. His mind was going a mile a minute yet again, reminding him of all the innumerable ways this could go horribly wrong. Really, whomever of the three of them decided that coming out at their wedding needed to be given a shake.

"My parents invited you to live with us, didn't they?" Draco reminded, attention dragged away from the waistcoats at long last. He turned, one hand reaching out to tug Theo closer before both fell to his hips and kept him there. "I'm fairly certain they know. My mother, for certain. My father..? Well, he likes to ignore things anyway, so I'm not sure that's a great indicator of anything."

"Draco-"

"Theo," Draco murmured, leaning in to catch his mouth for a silencing kiss. "Shut up for a second, hm?"

Theo glared a little, but the expression had little bite. It had far too much affection lying just beneath the surface.

"If you're really that opposed to it, we don't have to do it. You can remain up there as groomsman and nothing more. Tori and I will both know otherwise, Daphne will continue to suspect, tears will be shed anyway, and we'll sneak you off on the honeymoon. No one will ever be the wiser," the blond stated, one hand coming up to cup Theo's cheek lightly, his thumb stroking against soft, tanned skin. "Just tell me now, so I don't lean over and snog you when they tell me I'm allowed to."

A laugh stole past Theo's lips, sceptical, uncertain, and still too affectionate. "How did I get you, Draco?"

"What does _that_ mean?" Draco asked with a scoff, rolling his eyes. "I'm no one's kept man. I'm independent."

"Like hell you are. You can barely take care of yourself. Tori's going to have her hands full with you."

"And you're going to be right there with her, aren't you? Scoffing still, and making fun of me until we're all old and wrinkled and have no hair," the blond pointed out, and the little smile that curved at his lips suggested he maybe wasn't opposed to the mental image.

Even Theo had to admit, it was appealing - the idea of getting old with the pair of them. "That's horrible," he said instead.

"You love it."

Theo inhaled slowly, bringing his hands up to drape over Draco's shoulders. "I love _you_. Both of you." He swallowed, holding Draco's gaze for a long moment. "And that means having to do terrifying things, I guess I'll do it."

The grin that split across Draco's lips was well worth it, as was the kiss that followed.

"We love you too," the blond murmured against Theo's mouth, and he couldn't help but smile back.


	44. Orotund

  
_orotund_  
(adj.) speaking or singing with fullness, strength, and clarity of sound or voice

“It is with great pleasure that I welcome you all to the Manor this afternoon, joining the happy couple in celebration of their love and adoration for one another.”

Theo’s initial words, his voice carrying across the grounds with the aid of only a little bit of magic, brought smiles to everyone’s faces, followed promptly by a round of applause that drew on. Even Theo was unable to keep from grinning in response, glancing down to where Tori and Draco were sitting at the table, both dressed to the nines in outfits that would be equally at home on a runway as they were at an afternoon wedding.

It was Theo’s turn for a speech - the Best Man’s speech, though it hadn’t gone unremarked by some (mostly under their breath) that he was sitting awfully close to the pair of them, and wouldn’t it be something if those rumours were true? - and so the brunet stood tall, his glass lifted as he proposed a toast.

As the applause finally died down, he went on, Tori and Draco both looking up at him with no small amount of affection as they waited to hear exactly what he’d say about them, their hands tangled beneath the table.

“As most of you know, I’ve known Draco for most of his life. I remember him when we were barely knee-high to our mothers and scrapping like nothing else. He locked me in a cupboard once, because he didn’t like that I preferred the company of books and fictional characters to him.” Theo grinned down at his lovers again, the expression lifting slightly at one side. “And, you know, I think he might be inclined to do the same thing even now, if he really felt like it.”

Once again, laughter and applause filled the gardens; he waited for it to pass before continuing on with his largely impromptu speech.

“He’s definitely gotten better over the years, though. I’m sure Tori realises that too, because she followed us closely enough in Hogwarts to have seen some of the high points of his ridiculousness. Does anyone else remember the time he decided to take on a hippogriff and nearly lost an arm?” A pause, as Theo smirked out at the audience. “I seem to remember it a little differently, and with a lot more melodrama. But I suppose we can give the poor sod the benefit of the doubt here.”

Draco reached over with his free hand, swatting Theo’s hip, though there was no hiding the fact that he too was grinning. Tori was trying to hide her own grin by ducking her head a little, and she nudged her shoulder against her new husband’s lightly.

“Still, tradition dictates that this is their day to be celebrated, with all of us being happy for them even if we secretly don’t want to be. If that’s the case, I won’t judge you, but if you do try to ruin anything, I may personally come over there and deal with the situation.” It was a gently put threat, one offered with a grin, just as Theo’s always were. Draco knew that he had a phial of something rather nasty hidden up his sleeve, and wasn’t afraid to use it if it came to it.

“At any rate, I think I’m perhaps one of the most pleased that Draco’s finally gotten his act together and found himself a wonderful girl to spend the rest of his life with. He deserves it, honestly. And Tori deserves someone who loves as fully and unconditionally as Draco does. I know I’m not alone when I wish the two of you the utmost happiness for the years to come,” Theo twisted, lifting his glass to the pair of them, his grin growing almost a little more devious. It was subtle, not seen by anyone else but the pair of them, and Tori’s eyes lit up slightly as she waited to see if he was going to do it.

After all, maybe he’d stepped out of being properly wed to them at the ceremony, but this was a time of Theo’s choosing, and it wasn’t like the offer to come out about it wasn’t open.

“And I’m going to love every minute of being right there with them,” he declared, and Draco grinned. Tori was the first to rise up to her feet, leaning over Draco’s head so she could catch Theo’s mouth for a light kiss, one full of pride and affection. The moment she drew away, Draco was there, one hand curling around the side of Theo’s neck as he did much of the same.

There was a hush over the small crowd as the three of them separated, Draco’s free hand tangling with Theo’s. Tori could see from there that Narcissa was trying to hide her amusement behind a sip of her champagne, while Lucius looked slightly unsure of what exactly was going on. Some of the other guests looked uncertain as well.

But then someone rose to her feet - Tori realised it was Pansy Parkinson, looking rather beautiful in a brightly coloured cocktail dress, with her long dark hair coiled into a messy, asymmetrical bun - and began to applaud. It seemed like all the rest of them needed, and other soon followed, rising up to their feet to wish the happy threesome all the best for the future. Toasts were made, and the entire party was quickly revitalised even in the wake of the admission. It had gone perfectly.


	45. Eutony

  
_eutony_  
(n.) the pleasantness of a word’s sound

“I can’t believe you did it like that,” Tori laughed as the three of them lounged back against their honeymoon bed, a massive, sprawling piece of furniture that took up barely a third of their even more massive hotel room. Where they went didn’t even matter - it was beautiful, with innumerable sights and culture galore, but they had everything they needed right there. Night had fallen hours ago, and dawn was likely following close behind, but that didn’t bother the young trio.

Theo merely preened, carding his fingers through her hair; Tori’s head was resting on his chest, and his head was resting on Draco’s, the pair of them all tangled up comfortably. “What good is an announcement like that if you don’t do it when it’s least expected? During my speech? I know there were at least three people who probably fainted.”

“And it _still_ went well,” Draco drawled, curling up against the pair of them a little more, eyes locked out the open french doors to stare out at the city’s skyline and the faint traces of the sun coming up behind it. Birds were softly chirruping in the distance; the night was otherwise silent, leaving the three of them to feel as though they were the only things that existed in the world. “I daresay that might have been one of the most effortlessly pulled off weddings the world has ever seen.”

Tori shifted, glancing back at her husband with a grin before holding up her left hand, admiring the glittering ring adorning her finger. “It helps when you have two completely determined, ambitious individuals making sure it’s going to go according to plan.”

“Three,” Draco corrected, reaching forward to tangle his fingers with hers. “We all did it.”

“Are you sure I didn’t do my best to send everything off on an unrelated spiral?” Theo teased, glancing up to their hands with a grin.

“Positive,” Tori replied. “You didn’t do anything we weren’t expecting. If the rest of them didn’t see it coming, then… Well, that’s hardly our fault.”

The grin of her face mirrored that of both of her lovers’; there was no denying that the three of them were co-conspirators, and more than happy about it. There was more affection in those shared expressions than either of the boys ever hoped to get in their lives, and now they could bask in it day in and day out.

The sun began to creep up a little higher, reminding them that they were slightly exhausted, that they’d spent the day getting ready, the evening celebrating, and the night celebrating in a much more intimate way. Draco was the first to yawn, Theo right after him, and Tori merely laughed.

“It occurs to me that I’ve been hesitant to fall asleep, because if I do, I might wake up to all this being a dream,” she mused after another moment, after they’d relaxed against one another again.

“It’s not,” Draco murmured, squeezing her hand gently. “And that’s my job anyway. Fretting about stupid little things.”

“You’re _married_ ,” Theo stated aloud for the first time in ages, as though it was some kind of revelation. Draco’s fingers carded lazily through his hair, and then the blond corrected him lightly:

“ _We’re_ married.”

Theo shifted, glancing up to the blond, and grinned a little. “I guess we are. I’ve got a ring too.”

Tori’s free hand came down to catch Theo’s then, and she completed the circuit, bringing his hand up so she could brush a kiss against his knuckles. “It’s got a nice ring to it, hasn’t it? Being married?” They all ignored the pun, preferring not to ruin the moment.

“It’s a lot better now that we don’t have that bloody wedding to plan, I’ll give you that much,” Draco drawled, stifling another yawn. The sun was beginning to streak the sky with pinks and oranges, giving a much needed lightness to the dark. It was sort of fitting, in a way. It was the dawning of a new day, and a new life for the trio.

“That bloody wedding went off without a hitch, need I remind you? And it was all because we took so much time to focus on it,” Tori chastised him.

“You already sound like you’ve been married for years,” Theo told them affectionately.

“Just you wait. We’ll be worse in five years,” Draco drawled, grinning at them both. Theo groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Look at that sunrise,” Tori softly murmured after a moment, her eyes sliding out to the skyline as those colours began to blend together like a watercolour masterpiece. “It’s beautiful.”

“I think that means we’re supposed to fall asleep,” Draco murmured, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment. “I wouldn’t be able to do much more than lie here anyway.”

“You can nap later,” Theo told him, nudging Draco in the ribs gently. The blond merely groaned, curling a little more around him.

“You can’t tell me you want another round.”

Tori just laughed, rolling herself over so she could see them both a little more, the sunset visible from her peripheral vision. “I agree with Draco. We should get some sleep. Now that we’re officially seen the start of our first day bound together by the holy laws of matrimony and all that. And then we can have a little more fun, when we’re not absolutely _exhausted_ ,” she told them both, fingers tracing along Theo’s chest. “How does that sound?”

Theo sighed heavily, one hand sliding around her shoulders casually. “I _suppose_. Draco? What do you think?’

He shifted a little to peer up at the blond behind him, and as he did so, Tori quietly giggled, burying the sound against Theo’s chest. Theo realised why after a moment’s pause; Draco was asleep, having slipped down into slumber the easiest of any of them. All it took was that little closing of his eyes, and he was out like a light.

“He’s asleep,” Theo murmured, dropping his voice to keep him from waking.

“I suppose that answers the question, doesn’t it?”

Again, Theo just sighed, shaking his head. as he tried to stifle his grin. "I suppose it does.”


	46. Advesperascit

  
_advesperascit_  
(v.) the approaching dark; the evening draws near

They could all tell, in their own ways, that things were drawing to an end. Not permanently - not after the hullabaloo they’d gone through - but for a time. It was like when Theo stole Draco away from reality for a time, the pair of them escaping away to Rome and simply wrapping themselves up in one another. It was virtually the same now, with the three of them having escaped away from everything to revel simply in themselves. Their final day away from home was drawing to a close now, signalled by the way the sun was finally setting behind the skyline, illuminating it briefly but brilliantly.

Draco was the first to recognise it, with a sort of dread welling up and knotting the pit of his stomach. That was simply how he was. Though Theo remained the most morbid of the three, Draco was decidedly the most pessimistic, the most inclined towards downward spirals. Lately, not as much; lately, he’d had the pair of them to cling to, to revel in, and to use as life preserver. At that moment, though, he was merely resigned to the knowledge, rather than letting it drag him down. It was an end, yes, but it wasn’t _the_ end. There were still plenty of days where he would wake up next to them both, their limbs tangled, their yawns bleary and pleased. And he was finally beginning to realise that.

Theo was next, having sensed the way Draco shifted and adjusted, as though suddenly uncomfortable. It didn’t last, though; he realised after a moment that the blond had something of an epiphany right under their noses, right before their eyes. It was a sudden thing, this sort of _snap_ as puzzle pieces slotted into a bigger picture for Draco. A lazy smile curved over Theo’s mouth as it sank in for him as well, that they’d have to go home, back to their lives, but now he didn’t have to delude himself into thinking that the other shoe would drop. He was one of the family now, no matter how much the rest of the world frowned upon it, and he wasn’t going anywhere. He wouldn’t want to, either.

Tori came to the same conclusion last, as she was locked in a state of happy drowsiness that came to her honestly, as she curled up between the pair of them. Theo’s fingers were lazily carding through her hair, very nearly putting her to sleep, and the soft thud of Draco’s heart beneath her ear wasn’t helping. Her realisation came in a much happier form, as she was already more inclined towards positivity and optimism. She was good for them both in that way; they needed a ray of light to guide them.

Her epiphany was slow and ebbing, like a tide gently lapping in over the sand as it came in: she gradually came to the conclusion that they had to go home after this. But instead of waiting for an ending, she thought of it as a beginning: from here on out, they were a group, bound together until the ends of time. It was a very romantic sort of notion, and she had to admit that she rather loved it, though she’d been initially a little more wary. She wasn’t any more, not knowing that there was nothing to worry about. She was safe between the pair of them, protected by her dragon and the source of all his strength from anything that might have come as a threat under the curtain of night. The dark wasn’t something she was afraid of. It wasn’t something _any_ of them were afraid of, not now.


	47. Fanaa

  
_fanaa_  
(n.) destruction of the self; “destroyed in love”

It was on his first lone walk through the Malfoy Manor gardens that Draco came to something of a revelation. Another one, really, given that this week had basically been full of them. This one was simple: even when he was alone, he wasn’t.

It settled over him like a comfortably worn blanket, like one he’d had for years and kept forgetting about. For one of the first times in his life, Draco realised that it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He liked being a part of a whole like that, for that was precisely what they were. It was a horribly romantic notion, that their rings bound them together, body and soul, but he sort of liked horribly romantic notions, if only around his family. So far as everyone else was concerned, he could really care less. None of them really knew him that well, though.

A lazy smile curved along his lips as he thought about it in-depth, as he sauntered through the paths lined by gardenia and narcissus and all manner of other flowers that had been brought back from around the world, and carefully planted in marked areas. This was his favourite spot - it always had been - and he decided that having revelations in it was fitting.

How many times had he gone there to try to escape his life? To try and lose himself in the maze that sprawled out behind the parlour? Too many, Draco knew, and it was high time that he forget about all of that and finally make some good memories again. It was high time that Tori and Theo help him fling open doors that had been long locked, since after the war, and air out the stench of death that seemed to cling in the corners. It wasn’t necessarily; he needn’t be afraid of his own home, not when he’d managed to find two people so absolutely willing to help him lose himself in _them_. He was no longer a being in his own right, not really: he was part of a whole, and when you were part of a whole, it didn’t matter how shattered your own soul was. The rest of the whole would put you back together again.

And so they had. Both were like bandaids, in that they alone could do a world of good to help him along the healing process. But together? Together, they were like the most powerful potions and balms and spells, capable of healing near anything.

A ridiculously romantic notion, again. But still, Draco loved it.


	48. Tsundoku

  
_tsundoku_  
(n.) buying books and not reading them; letting books pile up unread on shelves or floors or nightstands

Theo had always had a bit of a problem when it came to buying books. He loved the things, he loved to lose himself within them, wrapping himself up in whatever story was available. He had favourites, of course, as anyone did, but he also loved new things. New tales that could sweep him off his feet, new adventures that were filled with drama and action and potentially romance, depending on how he was feeling. He’d never been as sappy as Draco was; his tastes ran a little purer. But he did appreciate the major genres.

Ever since the wedding, though, he’d found himself distracted. He simply couldn’t find the same amount of time to lose himself in a good book. It was a travesty, in a way, but it was also something he was coming to terms with. Before, he’d simply make time; he’d sequester himself away from everyone he possibly could, and he’d delve into the pages with abandon. But now, it was almost as though he had better things to do.

Loathe though he was to admit it, the adventure that he was embarking on with Tori and Draco was a hell of a lot more exciting. Though you’d never catch him ever calling it something like that.

Far too cheesy, honestly.

He curled up against Tori’s side, listening to her quiet hum of satisfaction as she tossed an arm over his middle, and stared out around the darkened room. Draco was still getting ready for bed, presumably, judging by the running water in the next room, and that meant there was a trickle of light coiling out under the door, creating patterns on the hardwood that Theo could follow with his eyes.

It also served well to illuminate the stack of books he’d just recently obtained on a trek to the nearest bookstore. They were on all manner of subjects, some textbooks, some fiction, some just things he thought were interesting. All of them untouched, abandoned after he’d bought them. The same went for the stack, unseen, on the bookshelf across the room. Much of the same, as far as subject matter. He promised himself he’d pick one up last weekend; he hadn’t. Instead, Draco took up a spot in his lap and took up a good few hours of his time. Time well spent, as far as Theo was concerned.

The light in the other room clicked off, and Draco padded in, humming at the way they’d not left room for him in the middle. Tori was fast asleep now, snoring softly against Theo’s back, and the brunet flipped open the sheets next to him, eyes sliding up to spy Draco through the darkness, inviting him in silently. It was accepted, as it always was, and the blond took up his spot beneath the blankets. Yet another night, those books left untouched. Next week would be the same, filled less with losing himself in text, and more with losing himself in life, in love and the gentle touches of his partners. He decided then that there were far worse things he could be doing, and even if the books weren’t read tonight or tomorrow or the next day, they’d still be there, waiting for him to finally come back to them. There was no reason, really, that Tori and Draco couldn’t get in on it as well.

Actually, that sounded like a great plan.

With that in mind, a smile on his face, and Draco pressed against his chest, Theo closed his eyes, and let the stacks of books stop bothering him quite as much as they had been. They’d be there tomorrow.


	49. Atychiphobia

  
_atychiphobia_  
(n.) fear of failure; fear of not being good enough

The first little while - of their little arrangement; ‘marriage’ seemed almost not quite the word to use - was a bit rough, they supposed. As things went, it could have been much worse, but the three of them each fretted individually that perhaps they weren’t quite living up to the expectations that might have been set beforehand. Tori always worried that maybe she just wasn’t wife material, as though there was some kind of list of requisites she needed to fulfil before she would be. More than that, she worried that she was just too young to end up being any good at it.

Like there was anything to really be good at, short of loving and being loved in return. Theo sort of thought she was overthinking the whole thing, really, though she’d only made mention of it in passing. He also didn’t dare suggest it, not when he too worried that maybe he’d be absolute crap at this whole married thing. Hell, he wasn’t even really good at just dating - Draco (and Tori) had been the only lovers he’d ever had that lasted for any duration of time. Suffice to say, he was in no position to start arguing with her over it.

Draco, on the other hand, had actually kept lovers before. More than that - he’d dated Pansy for two years, and probably would have done so for considerably longer, had the war not gotten in the way. Though it probably didn’t help that Narcissa had never liked the poor girl and her terrible nose; if there was anything a Malfoy (née Black) couldn’t abide by, it was a terrible nose like that marrying into the family.

Tori’s nose was much cuter, honestly.

Despite being the only one of them who had proven himself to be monogamous enough (which was sort of hilarious, in its own right) for marriage, Draco had so many of his own issues, all compounding upon one another, that he was a bit of a mess too. Suffice to say, the three of them had a heap of problems, all tangling together, making the first couple of months sort of hellish as they tried to figure out a good way to approach it all.

They all had faith they’d get it one day, though; they had years and years with which to perfect it anyway. It was obviously going to be a process, to say the least, but at least they’d have company throughout it.

Sooner or later, it had to come out. It had to be mentioned, and it had to come to light, rather than being the elephant in the room, massive and glaring, willing someone to finally bring it up. And so it did, approached with such careful uncertainty one afternoon in the parlour that it was like someone approaching a hippogryff for the first time. It was like a dance: approach, no eye contact, bow, submit.

At least Draco had learned one thing through Care of Magical Creatures, even if nothing else sank in.

“I don’t suppose either of you feel as though we have a series of minor problems to work out?” He started that afternoon over cooling tea and half-eaten biscuits, when none of them really felt like eating overly much but had no other ideas for how they ought to be spending their time.

Tori’s eyes flicked up to him, as did Theo’s. Tori met Draco’s eyes; Theo looked at his hands, which nervously twisted his wedding ring around and around his finger. Suffice to say, it was Theo who caught the initial fidgeting, and Tori who caught the obvious frown furrowing his brows.

“What do you mean, darling?” She asked him, glancing now to Theo, who seemed to have absolutely no clue as to how to respond either. The question stirred up concerns in him as well, sending a small shiver down his spine.

“Like none of us quite know what we’re doing?” Grey eyes, slightly too wide, snapped between them both, almost as though he was now worried that bringing it up wasn’t kosher; like he’d misstepped just by opening his mouth on the matter.

Tori merely got up, sliding out of her seat so she could drape herself on his, legs cast over his lap to both pin him to the sofa and to offer a reassuring presence in his lap. Draco’s hands fell to her legs, gently skimming over denim to accept the unspoken comfort.

“Draco,” she started plainly, leaning against him so her fingers could slide up around his shoulder, into his hair. “You know we’re all young still. I’m sure everyone’s dealt with this kind of thing before.”

“Being worried that they’ve already failed at being married, and they’ve only just started?” He dryly responded, eyebrows arching though he moved into her hand. He’d always loved his hair being touched; Theo’s theory was that his mother had stroked his hair when he was small, thus teaching him that the gesture was the most soothing thing he could possibly encounter. He was like a bloody cat, honestly.

Tori faltered, though her fingers didn’t, though she nodded a moment later. “Exactly. Just like that.”

“Unless you’ve disappeared off with some bimbo from the pub, I hardly think you’ve failed, Draco,” Theo pointed out, feeling just a bit hypocritical at the same time. The blond in question looked horrified at the idea, his arm slipping around Tori’s waist.

“Of course not.”

“Well, then,” Theo went on with a shrug, “I think you’re perfectly all right.”

“What about the fact that we’ve not…thrown any parties? And we haven’t talked about children. And we don’t really do date nights,” Draco started up again, voice hitching and brows furrowed again. The list, ridiculous as it was, simply made Tori try (and fail) to stifle a little burst of laughter.

“Are those three things the only things you need for a good marriage? And here I thought it was being faithful and true.”

“Hush,” Draco protested, pouting as colour crept up his cheeks.

She realised then that her own fears were likely unfounded as well. They’d not jumped into any of this - none of them. It had been a long time coming, especially for Draco and Theo, who had effectively been seeing each other for years without ever admitting that maybe that was exactly what they were doing. It was as though puzzle pieces were finally slotting into place, and Tori suddenly felt very clever for being a bit quicker on the draw than her two husbands.

A little smile curved at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes lit up a little more as she glanced between them with renewed fondness. “I’d be correct to assume that none of us do know what we’re doing, wouldn’t I?” She asked after a moment, and at the way Theo’s mouth twitched and he glanced away, and Draco’s continued petulance, she was absolutely right.

So she went on: “That’s sort of the whole point though, isn’t it? It’s something we can figure out. Together, in theory. Yes, we’ll likely make missteps, and we’ll probably screw the whole thing up, and we’ll definitely fight, but so long as we all come back together at the end, knowing without a doubt that we love one another, and whatever we make of marriage will be good, we’ll be fine. I think.”

Theo blinked, and Draco found himself gaping at her with open affection, glad to hear someone had maybe figured it out. It reassured him that he’d definitely picked a brilliant woman to marry. Not that there was really any doubt there; with Tori’s ambitions, she was definitely clever and more than capable of achieving anything and everything she ever set her mind to. And even with that, both her young men were sure there were days when even she wasn’t entirely certain that she’d manage. That was, maybe, what they were for, though.

It clicked even more for Draco as he stared at her, and then back over to Theo. That’s exactly what they were there for: they were all there for each other, to build the others up when they needed it, to offer support as necessary, and to be supported in return if worse came to worst. It was like a house: a wall could stand up on its own, but it stood up a lot better with the other walls there to brace it. And so it was for the three of them.


	50. Ichariba chode

  
_ichariba chode_  
(phr.) “though we meet but once, even by chance, we are friends for life”

Part of what Tori thought might have helped her and Draco’s relationship was the fact that, right from the get-go, he seemed to consider her a friendly face. They’d never really hung out in school, what with her being two years below him, and therefore, in none of his classes. She had, however, seen him virtually every day. Draco and Daphne were never friends, but they did have a couple classes together, and they did speak periodically, which put him on Tori’s radar, however inadvertently. It wasn’t as though she’d gone looking for a boyfriend. It just tumbled into her lap eventually.

Their very first meeting had been in the common room, when he and a few of his friends - lackeys, really - were sitting around laughing about something or another. It had been a regular day of classes, perhaps a week in, and while Draco had been making fun of one of the professors, Daphne strode over to him quite pointedly and asked him about an essay they had due in a few days’ time. Tori had been standing just behind her at the time, uncertain of exactly what she was meant to say to third-years when she was a first-year; though Daphne had always taken the time to tell her about everything at Hogwarts, it hadn’t quite prepared her for life in the castle. Close, but not quite.

“Oh. And this is my sister,” Daphne had stated, gently nudging Tori forward, putting her in the spotlight. Blaise glanced up, assessed her, and quirked one brow slightly. Theo hadn’t even looked up from his book, though the faint tilt of his head suggested that he was, at least, listening. Crabbe and Goyle were too stupid to care or know what to make of that, and Draco gave her a once-over, an assessing glance, and then stuck his hand out, chin tipped up in a clear sign of pretentiousness. “Draco Malfoy. Welcome to Slytherin, where you’ll find your _real_ friends.”

Tori had merely stared, blinking a little, but shook his hand anyway, nodding her apparent agreement.

After that, she wondered exactly what kind of person Draco Malfoy was that _that_ was his chosen line for meeting someone new. It was friendly enough, as things went, though in hindsight she had to snort softly and acknowledge that her new husband was a bit of a twit, and always had been. An endearing enough twit, though.

Somehow, though, Tori’s acceptance of his line had cemented her in his mind as someone who, though considerably younger, was worth talking to. If she was in the common room, he might greet her or ask her about what she was doing. If she was eating alone, he might invite her down the table. It wasn’t often, mind - he usually had other things to do. But it did give her the first glimpse into the realisation that maybe Draco, on his own, wasn’t so bad after all.

He’d never been that good at ‘friends’, she knew that much for certain. None of them were ever treated like friends treated one another, and Blaise and Draco’s friendship was perhaps one of the strangest ones she’d ever seen, but she put that off as neither of them having a sibling to teach them what it was really like. She’d felt for them, back at that young age. It wasn’t quite pity: more sympathy, like she hoped they’d get there eventually. She hadn’t banked on a war cropping up, suddenly turning everything on its ear, and throwing some of them headlong into things none of them really understood.

It was in his sixth year - and her fourth - that Tori really realised that she _had_ stuck with him in some way. Draco stopped talking to most people entirely, whenever he could help it. It was strange, in a way, seeing him sitting off by himself in a corner of the common room, performing his Prefect duties where necessary and then focusing more on himself than anything else. It was equally sad, she’d thought.

One evening, after he’d disappeared for a good few hours to do only-Merlin-knew-what, he’d spoken to her.

“Greengrass.” He’d started, glancing around a little like the common room wasn’t empty, like everyone hadn’t gone to bed an hour previously, like he had been there the entire time, rather than having skipped not only his last class of the day, but dinner.

“Malfoy,” she replied mildly, eyebrows arched expectantly. Perhaps she was only in fourth year, but she could hold her own.

“What do you know about Vanishing Charms?”

It had seemed like an innocuous question at the time, and Tori had answered it with ease and efficiency, though she hadn’t really known that much at all. It was obviously enough, as he spent most of the conversation nodding and jotting things down in a lovely, looping handwriting that was remarkably tidy. At the end of it, instead of simply gathering his things and leaving, he’d offered her a small smile and a very quiet “Good night.”

Even at the time, Tori had noticed that smile was exhausted, speaking to someone dealing with far more than they were currently capable of dealing with. It wasn’t until later that she’d find out precisely what that meant, and later still before her heart truly went out to him in regards to it. 

But though they hadn’t spoken that often, hadn’t fallen into the same circles until after he’d left school, they were always somehow friendly. In a way, Tori wasn’t at all surprised that she was now Astoria Malfoy (though she sometimes thought about the other options, like Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy or, her personal favourite for a laugh, Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy-Nott). It was almost as though the world was intent on nudging them carefully together, with her giving him precisely what he needed all along the journey, until he finally came out the other end as good as new.

She was rather happy to have met him, though there had been bumps along the way. There were always bumps: that was what made life so interesting.


	51. Quisquilian

  
_quisquilian_  
(adj.) trashy; like or consisting of rubbish

Sometimes both Tori and Theo wondered what exactly possessed them to fancy someone like Draco as much as they did. He could be absolutely exasperating at times, his ego getting the better of him and rearing up now and then to show that he really hadn’t grown past that childish tendency to get all sorts of proud about the stupidest things; he could be brash and stubborn and petulant too. But in a way, it was sort of endearing.

Of course, they and his mother were the ones who could ever think such a thing, and maybe that was why they both got along so well with Narcissa. Everyone in that small pool of people knew exactly what they were getting into with the young man, and knew that they were in for a lifetime of eye-rolling and petty bickering. It was just par for the course.

But some of Draco’s best characteristics were hidden just beneath the surface, waiting to be discovered by whomever was willing to dig deep enough beneath the surface. And maybe those things were what drew Tori and Theo to him in the end: he was at least somewhat worth it, once you settled yourself in with him. Once he was comfortable. After all, there was no questioning that he was wonderfully loyal and even more protective; there was nothing he wouldn’t do for someone he loved, even if it started to verge on the slightly darker range of things.

None of them really entertained the notion that they’d ever have to veer into that again, though. The war was over; everyone hoped it would stay that way.

One thing both of them had learned along the way, though, was that there were other things waiting to be discovered, things that Draco kept to himself no matter how well he knew someone. It was a selection of guilty pleasures, destined to never see the light of day, if he could help it.

Not that _that_ was ever going to happen.

Tori found out first, when she’d found him reading in bed one evening, an old, worn paperback clasped in his hands. He was riveted to whatever it was he was reading, and at first, she smiled, finding it sweet that he was so into it. It didn’t take long, though, for her to realise that the cover was plastered with a half-naked guy and some woman pressing herself passionately against him.

“Draco,” she started, and the moment the syllables passed her lips, grey eyes were snapped up to her, slightly wide with mild panic before the book was hastily shoved under a nearby pillow.

“Tori.”

A snort of laughter bubbled up from her, her eyebrows arching. “What was _that_?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he told her, scoffing in mild derision, even as his cheeks coloured faintly.

“Were you reading a romance novel?” Tori asked teasingly, padding across the room. Once she reached the side of the bed, she knelt upon it and began to crawl towards him, her smile thoroughly amused.

“Of course not,” Draco protested, cheeks colouring further as she finally joined him at the head of the bed, twisting to settle herself upon his lap. “What makes you think I’d read trash like that?”

“I don’t know.” Her fingers wound into his hair a little, twisting a piece around one digit. “Are you looking for ideas?”

“I don’t need to look for ideas in romance novels,” he told her, tone suggesting the mere idea of it was laughable.

“No, of course not,” Tori conceded with a knowing sigh, instead leaning in to press a light little kiss to his mouth. “You’d never.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I really, _really_ don’t,” she laughed.


	52. Saudade

  
_saudade_  
(n.) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved and then lost; “the love that remains”

It had been a year of ups and of downs, of love and loss, and growing older and up and more mature. It had been good, it had been bad, it had its moments of hope and of despair. It was, effectively, as every other year that ever passed and that ever would come to pass. Every little event came to shape not just the three, but everyone around them, leaving everyone just a little bit different than how they walked into it. And for the most part, for the better.

Sometimes, everyone had a moment of nostalgia, where they longed for nothing more than to be little again, to revel in never having to worry about anything at all. There was a level of laissez-faire that went along with being small and being able to do whatever you wanted with the built-in excuse of youth. Some had those more than others, namely Draco, who constantly longed for something just out of reach; he was getting better with time, learning that maybe the life he had right that moment wasn’t quite as bad as he thought it was. Certainly, it wasn’t easy, but he had done better than some coming out of the war, and it became a steady process to remind him of that fact.

Things were good now, they were. In a strange, different sort of way from how they’d been imagined by small, creative minds, but they were good all the same. After all, nothing ever turned out precisely how it was imagined by a child, no matter how pragmatic that child might be, and half the joy of life was discovering how things might take odd turns and reshape themselves into something more fantastic than before.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t the fair share of longing and wondering about what might have been. Draco often thought about how his life would have turned out without the war tearing his family apart. Tori often wondered how relationships might have evolved without things nudging them along. Theo’s mind always went to what would have happened if his mother had survived. What they always realised was that they could wonder until they were blue in the face, but it wouldn’t change their lives; they wouldn’t suddenly wake up in a parallel dimension, and they wouldn’t be able to truly live out any of it.

Maybe that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, either.

They liked the lives they were living. That’s what it all came down to. They longed and wished and dreamed of alternatives, but they wouldn’t trade what they had for those; there was a level of appreciation for both versions. And as far as Draco, Tori, and Theo were concerned, there was even more for what they did have.


End file.
